One for the Money
by Raina
Summary: [AxelxRoxas AU] In the heat of the Prohibition, Axel reaches rock bottom, a victim of organized crime and piss poor spending habits. Finding Roxas on the streets begins a streak of luck. But how much can he push until someone pushes back?
1. Rock Bottom

**Title: One For The Money  
Rating: M for violence and mature themes  
Warnings: Violence lots, implied rape, molestation, murder, language. Akuroku  
A/N: I swore I wouldn't write this AU, but damnit, it DEMANDED to be written. It sat there and I couldn't ignore it. WTF? Anyway, some background info. Yes, this is definitely an AU. Kingdom Hearts characters in the Roarin' Twenties. Yes, the American ones. Yeah, it's in America. Chicago to be exact. Why? 'Cause. Please leave me some feedback on what you think of the premise! Please?**

_I'm a gambler by fate._

_It's not my fault, really._

_Fate just cast the die my way._

He walked along the moonlit streets. The concrete beneath him was cracked and weeds were growing through. People walked with their shoulders hunched, and everyone still managed to knock shoulders with each other.

A blaring trumpet could be heard down the hall, along with the shrill singing and piano accompaniments. He liked the trumpet. Along the street, heads nodded in time with the beat. He started to hum.

Cars roared past. A man shouted angrily and jumped off the sidewalk. He shook his fist and cursed the car that was fading in the distance. He was sopping wet. Girls crowded together in packs and laughed. One or two men could be seen on their arms. He couldn't help but admire their short skirts and slender necks.

Oh, but they stood out compared to the gray crowd and the shabby men resting against the buildings. They shook their tin cans and pleaded, "Money for food? Money for food?" No matter how hard they shook those damned cans, no clinging and clanging ever came from it.

On the corner, between the street light and the tall, broken down building stood a rouged girl. The curls in her hair had lost their bounce. Perhaps she would call it a night soon. Oh, but she wanted to offer her wares to that one last gentleman passing her by. Please sir, she's got no where else to turn. Have a little fun?

She looked at him and turned away. He had no money. He smiled and walked on. In the shadows, if anyone bothered to look hard enough, there were the corpses of homeless men who had picked the unlucky spot to rest. Their corpses were draining away to nothing and the flies buzzed around their heads like halos. Heartless perched atop the fresher ones' heads.

The beady eyes of the heartless never settled on him, a testament of what he lacked compared to those surrounding him. Somewhere a child screamed and gunshots rang off. The crowd was unfazed. From the gay bars the police appeared and swarmed together, flocking to the gunshot and the screaming child.

Poor kid was dead by then. The heartless were fast eaters, and only getting faster. He laughed and ducked inside one of the bars.

Smoke smothered him from the instant he opened the door. The deafening roar of the crowd was only outmatched by the talented trumpet player on the stage. Too gentle protests from innocent girls, and the loud laughter of the rough hands that caressed them. One more drink for the lady, sir.

Oh, but she shouldn't. She silently pleaded for help as the drink was practically shoved down her throat. The curtain to the stage was drawn, and the final note hung on the ears of those who had been listening.

He turned to the bar and took a seat. It was surprisingly vacant, but the drunks were greedily watching the poor, drunk, innocent girls. One or two clung to the bars and demanded their moonshine. Unfamiliar bartenders stared at him and then insisted to the regulars that they didn't serve alcohol.

They vanished into the back room to grab the drink of choice. No one cared beyond the simple lie, as if anyone ever believed they didn't serve alcohol.

Blond, young, far too naïve, the one familiar bartender appeared almost out of nowhere.

"What'd you think, Axel?" Axel raised his eyes to look at the bartender before him. He smiled and reached for the drink he knew the bartender would have.

"That was you up there, Demyx?" Demyx grinned and grabbed a glass to wipe off. He wanted to look busy, though Axel never quite understood why.

Oh please, not another drink, sir. She thinks… She thinks that she needs to go home.

"Yeah. So where have you been?" he asked lazily, all the while shining that stupid glass. Axel wanted to break it. Stop trying to look like there's something to be done. He wasn't going anywhere and Axel knew it.

"To the fights, the races, the alleys…" He waved his hand airily as he took another drink. "To put it simply, I've been working my way into a hole known as bankruptcy." He rested his elbows against the polished wood of the bar and frowned.

Demyx stopped as he pondered the meaning of Axel's words. As it slowly dawned on him, he asked quickly, "Do you have enough--"

"Here," Axel replied as he threw the last of the change in his pockets onto the counter top. "Congratulations, you're fucking rich." He gulped the last of the shot and slammed the glass down onto the counter as well. He stood up unceremoniously and stumbled away. The stench of the stinking breaths and hot bodies was making him sick.

"How do you stand it?" he demanded as he slammed the door behind him. People jumped away from him.

The streets weren't quite so full then as he walked alone. The street lights winked in erratic spurts every now and again. He passed a tattered _Chicago Tribune_ stand. Several heartless ran past him. On the mildewed, brick walls was a poster. _Champion of Heartless: Tournament to be held Saturday._ He ripped it from its spot.

He didn't know where he was going. He had no money or no home to go to, not anymore. Angry shouts from the windows above filled the streets below. Some clothes fell into the streets and were run over by passing traffic. He smiled ruefully. Ah, the times, how they had changed.

_Here's your great victory over evil, Congress_, he thought with a laugh. _Here's what life is like without alcohol in the slums._

When he wasn't paying attention, she knocked him in the head with a metal bar. As he reeled unsteadily from the blow, she pulled him back into the alleyway and towered above him. Unlike most women, she tried to dress as much like the men as possible. The last thing she wanted was for them to not take her seriously.

He blinked his eyes, his mind wondering what the hell had just happened. She pulled him to his feet, he blonde hair all a mess from the sudden motions she was making. She punched him with her free arm. He stumbled as she punched him again, his arms flailed blindly, trying to protect him.

She laughed and punched him again. His nose was bleeding, probably broken. The evidence was all over his white shirt.

"What the hell!"

She tried to punch him again, but he reached out and grabbed her arm. She fought his grip and then let go of his shirt to punch him in the gut with her other arm. He let go and hunched over. She kicked him in the groin, and he toppled over with a loud thud.

"Oh God, you bitch!" he seethed. His breath was very audible through his crooked nose.

She laughed again and crouched over him. "You're over due, Axel."

He looked up at her and frowned. "Over due? But I've still got a week."

The harlequin on the corner turned a blind eye. He eye was so blind she ran away as fast as she could, and the woman over him didn't care.

"The date changed. We need our money back now."

"Larxene, I don't have the money," he replied as he slowly, gingerly sat up. He didn't realize she still had her bar until she took a swing at his head and hit it.

"I said now." As he forced his aching body to sit up, she kicked him in the side. The evening had not been going his way at all, and he cringed to think that he was getting mugged by one of the most petite women he knew.

"I need three days," he pleaded. He ignored the tears that slipped from the corners of his eyes. Oh, but how he hurt. She loved watching him squirm and curl up, afraid of where her next blow would be.

Somewhere, a trumpet wailed, a man screamed, a gun fired, a harlot cried. And somewhere he heard the clinking of change in a tin can. She couldn't hear beyond his pathetic gasps.

"Alright. I'm feeling a little merciful tonight, I guess," she said as she swung the bar over her shoulder. "I'll give you your damned time. In three days, we want two thousand."

"But that's double what I borrowed," he gasped. She silenced him with a kick to his face. His nose cracked further. He had a small pool of blood forming by his cheek.

"Two thousand dollars, three days." He heard the bar clatter to the floor. She listened to him whimper as she walked away. She would have loved to sit there and listen to him, but she had other appointments to keep.

He lay there for some time, long enough for the sky to turn purple and the moon to vanish completely. He sat up and felt around his nose, dried flakes of blood sticking to his hands. He could feel it out of alignment and he placed both hands to it.

He quickly inhaled before pushing it back into place with a loud crunch. The pain was momentary, but the pain in his sides was enough to keep him against the wall. Heartless crawled past him. Some stopped to examine the small puddle of blood at his feet, but they all headed for the shadows.

Daylight presented a whole new set of problems for him. How was he supposed to meet Larxene's demands? After all, she was simply a messenger. The others could be a lot worse, even if they didn't enjoy it quite so much as she did, the sadistic bitch.

He pushed himself up against the wall. As he stepped away from it, his balance tilted and he almost wound up on his face again. Three days to get two thousand! She was insane. What was worse, he couldn't think of any easy way out of his predicament. Poor people never had enough money to leave town. He stood awkwardly in the alleyway.

The night time city was shutting down for the daylight. Everywhere, neon lights flickered off and flappers and their escorts ran down the streets in a mad dash to get home before anyone was the wiser. Tired harlequins vanished into the safe houses where their pimps backhanded their wasted efforts.

Jazz music no longer filled the air. Men with briefcases started descending the stairs of the cheap apartments. Construction hats, women with purses, and finely dressed children slowly followed suit. Shouts of a new kind filled the air as Axel crawled out of the alleyway.

A rat followed him and scurried to the street where it was ran over.


	2. Lucky Charm

Chapter Title: Lucky Charm 

**A/N: Thanks to my one reviewer. :DD I tried to review back, but FFN is having trouble and won't let me. So I'll compliment you here. _As I Lay Dying_ was awesome, really awesome. XD I'd say more, but I have other pointless stuff to say in the A/N. Hopefully I'll get to leave a review sometime soon.**

**Anyway, to the rest of ya'll who read, feedback is greatly appreciated. I try to write in a way that I think will appeal to ya'll, and if you never tell me what I'm doing wrong or right, I can never make the story as good as you want it to be. I'm not picky about what you say, ok? In other news, 37mm by AFI is my new Akuroku song. Yay for me! Anyway, here's chapter 2. Enjoy!**

The daytime city was worse than the nighttime city, in his opinion. The streets were more crowded. No matter how anyone walked, they were always going to smack shoulders and walk with an awkward silence only broke by polite excuses and the occasional shout. What was worse, the undeniable scent of sweat and garbage was brought out by the hot sun. It was enough to make one sick.

Heartless didn't crawl around, or not as much. He could see their beady eyes glowing from the dark alleyways where some crawled off to die. The bars that had been so full the night before stood empty and closed. Those that weren't closed held the vacant air of a morgue.

No blaring trumpets could be heard during the day time.

He watched the pickpockets crawl from their respective holes in the wall. They gracefully moved past him and his bloody shirt. He was amused at how much they thought they knew about a person. The gentleman's wallet was long gone before he ever even noticed the urchin running off with it.

Axel stopped and rested against the wall. The crowd passed him, indifferent to his swollen nose and grinding headache. He laid his head back against the wall and heaved a sigh. His eyes closed tightly. He could feel the flakes of blood on his face.

Others were looking at him in disgust and mothers pulled their children closer to their bosoms. _Don't look, honey._ He smiled ruefully and opened his eyes. He had to get clean. He glanced around and made his way towards one of the opened bars. A man watched him with his nose stuck up in the air.

"The fuck do you think you're looking at?" he demanded of the man with clenched fists. He jumped and ran away. Axel smirked and walked towards the bar.

"Where's your washroom?" he asked of the barkeep who just jerked his hand towards the back. Axel scowled at him and looked for what he was motioning at. When he finally found the damned room, he headed for the sink and turned on the water.

The entire room had a look of neglect, with the sort of mellow polish of grime and rust. The floors appeared to be made out of dirt and the cracks in the wall seemed like they'd give at any moment.

He was annoyed to find that even splashing water to his face was enough to hurt his nose. He cursed Larxene and wished desperately that he'd get the chance to return the favor one day. Oh, and he would return it threefold at the very least.

On the wall was a poster that flapped in an imaginary breeze before gliding to the floor. Axel looked at it and reached down to grab it. _Champion of Heartless: Tournament to be held Saturday._

He thought back to the days when the heartless tournaments had been his best way of making money. He crumbled the sheet in his hands. Back in those days, everything had always been fixed, too. He couldn't lose. He crumpled the paper in his hands and threw it to the side as he left.

_One for the road. The missus is waiting, y'see._ Outside the bar stood several men, their dark skin glistening with sweat. They held their ragged hats and wrung their hands as they pondered over getting a drink, and how they could get inside. Axel passed them by without a second glance.

He walked along the edges of the crowded sidewalk. At times he was shoved into the wall by a bitter stranger. He shoved back and continued walking, not even sure where he was going. He only knew he had to go somewhere.

As he passed a long alleyway, he stopped. The heartless in the shadows weren't looking hungrily at the passing people, but instead surrounding a filthy boy. His clothes were tattered and torn. His white shirt was now a permanent mess and his jeans were falling apart. His face was filthy, and through one hole in the side of his shirt one could see his ribs in great detail.

His blond hair needed a combing and he glared pointedly at all the heartless. _Don't come any closer, bastards._ His shoulders were straight and he looked at all the heartless in turn. As they moved closer, he didn't bother to move away.

Axel looked away, knowing what would happen to the poor kid. He didn't stand a chance, for all his bravado would have one believe. The kid flexed his fingers as Axel turned to walk away.

He stopped when he heard metal clash against the floor. A heartless screamed in agony, and its scream was cut short by the sound of metal cutting through air. He looked back and in the kid's hands were two metallic looking swords. One was light, the other was dark and the way they both were shaped reminded him of a key.

Within minutes, all the heartless lay in bloody pools around him. Slowly, the blood and corpses faded as he breathed heavily with exertion. He wiped his hand against his open mouth and stood there silent. Axel's mind started working feverishly. He had found his way out of debt, and maybe his way into fortune.

"I've never seen anyone get rid of heartless like that," he said slowly. He gave a nod of approval and smiled just so slightly at the kid. He turned to look at Axel and the blades vanished from his hands. He backed up. His shoulders weren't quite so straight anymore and his legs were tense. He stared at Axel with wide, blue eyes.

"Hey, chill out. I'm just trying to give you a compliment," he explained and held his palms outward as he shrugged. He continued to move towards the boy who had still not run. "What's your name, kid?"

He looked around him and took a step back. His knuckles were white from how hard he was clenching his fists. His face was abnormally pale, almost sickly. "Roxas," he said as he turned to run.

Unfortunately within a few steps he stopped and held his hands to his sides as he breathed heavily. He couldn't run, not after that fight. Noises surrounded them both, a paper boy calling his wares, men frustrated with the news, men frustrated with each other, cab drivers in crowded traffic.

Roxas forced himself to stand up when he felt Axel lay a hand on his shoulder. He pulled away, but he couldn't shake the man's hand. "The name's Axel, and I have a proposition you might actually be interested in, Roxas." He sneered at the boy and led him out of the alleyway.

Roxas allowed himself to be led along, though his steps dragged and his face was glazed over, mouth agape, eyes not in focus. He ran into several people and didn't offer so much as an apology and Axel had to practically drag him with his one arm. On the ground, he noticed a quarter gleaming out like a beacon.

He reached down and grabbed it before anyone else could. "Let's get you something to eat," he announced to Roxas. Roxas turned and looked at him eagerly, suddenly all eyes and ears. Axel looked around, not wanting to go to a simple café because of his shirt and Roxas, period.

The cafe would have to do, he decided as he pulled Roxas to one. At the strange looks, he snapped, "C'mon, what's a guy got to do around here for food?" The cook leaned over the wood lazily.

"Whatcha want?" he asked with a skeptical raise of his eyebrows.

"Whatever twenty-five cents can buy," Axel responded smoothly as Roxas began looking for a seat. He was starting to feel faint and he didn't give a damn about the exchange currently happening. He'd rather be back in the alleyway trying to sleep.

Axel sat next to him after a few moments. Minutes later, a hamburger and fries was placed in front of Roxas. The waiter made a disgusted sound and quickly walked away. He waved his hand in front of his nose as soon as he was sure the pair couldn't see him.

Roxas looked at the food in disbelief. Without asking if it was his, he snatched the burger and started tearing into it gratefully. Axel frowned as his stomach growled. _Patience, patience, _he reminded himself. He'd get to eat plenty if this plan went his way.

"So, Roxas," he began with a lazy smile, "have you heard of the heartless fights?"

"No," he answered in between hasty bites. He coughed as he choked on the food for a moment. He had hardly cleared his throat until he finished the hamburger off and tore into the fries.

"Aww, too bad." Axel had to look away from his eating. The boy was starting to make him sick. "Cause, you know, there's a lot of money in it for the winner."

"Uh-huh."

"We could help each other out, too. We'd be so rich that you could eat any time you want." He grinned and added with a laugh, "And you could afford to take a bath."

Roxas glared at him, finally having slowed down to actually chew his food. "How?"

"If you enter the fight, you're sure to win with that blade-whatever-it-is--"

"It's a keyblade," he corrected pointedly.

"Yeah, whatever. You enter with it, you'll win easy. I place bets on you, we collect the money," he said, sugaring over his words towards the end.

"What do I do at the, uh, heartless fights?" he asked with a slight raise of his eyebrows. He leaned forward and pushed the empty plate aside.

"You survive," Axel replied with a strange glow in his eyes. "That's the beauty of it, and why you've got such a damned good chance. You keep that keyblade hidden until the last moment and the odds will be stacked against you, meaning bigger rewards for us both. We'll be rich!"

Roxas looked at him skeptically and relaxed back into his chair. He looked to the side, with a deep frown. He didn't want to seem like he would give in too easily. The plan was appealing, though.

"What are you going to bet with? You don't have any money."

"How does everyone keep guessing that about me," Axel mused aloud before turning to Roxas with a grin. "Oh, I'll find the money. It's the one thing I'm good at."

Roxas lowered his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly. "How?"

"There's a local gang, mafia, whatever… They like to help out the destitute. Real do-gooders when they're not collecting payments. That's where we'll get our money. Their leader never shows his face, but they got this one girl in there that's a real sucker for any sob story, and she holds a lot of sway."

"You're going to lie?"

"It's not a lie if it's true. You said it yourself, I don't have any money. Are you hiding a wad of cash somewhere?" He watched Roxas shake his head quickly and grinned. "So, we aren't lying. We're poor and we need cash fast."


	3. Sympathy Card

**Chapter Title: Sympathy Card**

A/N: Well, I finished up the chapter just in time to go get ready for work. Ugh, I hate working full time.  Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. The next one will be fun to work with. Thank you to all my reviewers! I will, one day, return the reviews. Promise.

Axel's step was just the little bit lighter. He had the key to getting out of debt. The boy and his keyblade would take those at the fights by storm, and he would reap the benefits. Of course, he had never explained to Roxas that the fights were not designed to be survived.

He smirked to himself at the thought of not having to share. Roxas stumbled, hesitant at the very least to be seen with the redhead. Vacant eyes turned to stare with the slightest hint of pity at the two of them. Homeless men shoved past them rudely, and women averted their sympathy. On the corner, as the occasional horse drawn carriage passed, a man stood with a grimy saxophone in hand. At hat lay at his feet, loaded down with the weight of nickels and pennies.

Roxas looked away with a cringe as a young girl grabbed the hat with a gleeful laugh. What a shame. It had been a nice hat, too, without the extra dollar that had been thrown in. When he looked back, the man was walking away, as if he had simply given the girl the hat.

Axel placed an arm in front of Roxas, to stop him.. "You don't walk into a busy street," he snapped with a roll of his eyes. Axel muttered something under his breath and Roxas backed up, but not without a defiant glare.

They walked in silence. Roxas noticed the cracks on the pavement and the occasional penny or nickel. He tried to grab them at first, but he gave up the effort because men in expensive shoes kept stepping on his hands. One man walked into him, but his nose was stuck so far up in the air he couldn't see what he'd stumbled over. Sometimes Axel would glance back to make sure that he wasn't lost.

That look was starting to make him angry. Besides, the more he thought, despite all the shouting, stumbling, and unbearable dampness around him, the more he wondered why. Why was Axel wanting to borrow money from a mafia, a gang, a crime lord, all synonymous with illegal?

"Why don't you get money from a bank?" came the question. It was asked with obvious mistrust and settled right between Axel's shoulder blades. He grinded his teeth and ignored it.

"_Big Bosses back in government! Read all about it! Extra, extra…"_

He turned down a side alley and kicked a can towards the paperboy's grating voice. He glanced back at Roxas before stopping at a red door that was shoved haphazardly against the mossy bricks. He felt his nose again, as if the swelling might have decreased from that morning.

"_Give it up, you look terrible. Go home, have a drink, and go to bed."_

That was probably what Demyx would have said. He looked at the boy, who looked more atrocious each second. Except for that damned stubborn frown, Axel could pass him off as a destitute orphan.

A homeless man sniggered down the alleyway, and the faint smell of booze and cigar smoke wafted towards them. He looked back at Roxas and sighed.

"Try and look a little hopeless," he pleaded quickly before turning around and reaching for the doorknob.

"What?" Roxas asked incredulously. Axel cringed and stopped.

Whatever god there might be, he hoped he'd help him out, because he was obviously dealing with the worst liar ever. It was rather sad, considering he found him in an alley. People who lived in alleys always tended to be the most cheerful liars.

"You know, hopeless. Nothing to live for, nothing to survive for. Come on, it can't be hard. You're barely alive now," he said, thinking he was being helpful.

Roxas wanted, for the umpteenth time, to hit him. At the very least, he wanted to tell him off, but before he could open his mouth, Axel had thrown the door open and vanished into the dimly lit room. He ran his hand over his face with an exasperated sigh before following.

Inside, the room was much louder than he though. The distinct absence of the heavy smell of smoke and alcohol bugged him. There was, however, the snap of cards, and the occasional sound of clapping. He looked towards the noise and noticed a boy with silver hair, not much older than him.

The really strange part, however, was his two companions.

"Gawrsh, how'd ya do that, Riku?"

They were an oversized dog and duck. Roxas couldn't help but to stare. Axel, however, was more intent on looking for the rumored red mask and cape, or at least the girl he was supposed to sway. The room was so cast in shadows, though, that the task was difficult, and there were at least two dozen people crowded into the room.

Every conversation, it seemed, revolved around heartless and the ways to get rid of them. Because a gun simply would not do, if anyone paid attention to the large man to Axel's left. No, heartless were becoming immune to guns, and the only people truly safe were the Nobodies. But they shouldn't have to give up their hearts to escape the dangers!

"What do you suggest we do? Shut down the city at night? It'd never work."

"Well, until we find a suitable weapon, what do you propose we do? They're starting to prey on children, and I won't have my daughter get hurt because of our irresponsibility."

"Yeah. The government can ban alcohol, but they can't protect our cities?"

Axel scowled in their general direction. If they though that ban had worked, they obviously had not been outside this polished, albeit dark, room. He highly doubted they listened to half the things they said, as the homeless man peeked into the room from the door Roxas had neglected to close.

Roxas had drawn closer to the table with the strange trio. It was magic, slight of the hand, he realized. That was what the boy was doing with the cards. He shuffled them dutifully before glancing at Roxas.

"Who're you?" he demanded.

Roxas turned and walked away from the question, searching for Axel. The boy's loud question drew stares to him, and from some platform, a man in a red cape and mask stood up, adding to the clamor.

"Yes, who are you strangers?"

Finally, Axel thought. "The name's Axel," he said, and was greeted with repeated cries of "who" and "what'd he say."

"Speak up!" said the cloaked man.

"Who is that?" Roxas muttered under his breath. "Is that the leader?"

"His name is DiZ, and no, he's not the leader. The leader never shows his face," Axel muttered back before saying loudly, "My name is Axel."

"Well, he's not exactly showing _his_ face," Roxas muttered. He folded his arms and glared at the back of Axel's head.

"Will you shut up?" Axel demanded.

"What business do you and your friend have here?" Several chairs shifted at DiZ's question. Apparently some people had decided that it would be best to stand up, just as a precaution. The silver-haired boy had put away the cards and was resting his hand lightly on the pocket of his vest. Roxas took a small step away from Axel.

"I have- no wait. We have a request to make. And we'd kind of like to do it without the theatrics, if you know what I mean," Axel said with a grand motion towards all of the crowd. Several angry and distrustful cries came from the crowd. And someone finally shut the door in the face of the homeless man.

DiZ stood silently for a moment as more and more people began to rise and make their sentiments known. Said sentiments seemed to revolve around the blood on Axel's shirt and the dirt encrusting his companion. Many were of the opinion to throw them out. A few thought that shooting them would be much better.

"Riku," DiZ said at last. "Lead them to the back room."

The boy stood up and walked towards Axel and Roxas. He motioned for them to follow him, while DiZ vanished amongst the crowd. Axel had to resist rubbing his hands together, though he couldn't quite keep the ridiculous smile off his face. They were led to a carpeted room.

There was a table pushed into the corner with a fair stack of books on top. A girl with auburn hair propped her feet on it as she read a book. She didn't even glance their way as they entered. The sequins on her dress almost lit the entire room. They highlighted the faded and peeling wallpaper on the walls, and the stained state of the carper.

DiZ stood in the center of the shabby room with his hands behind his back. Roxas shuffled behind Axel, and Riku leaned against the wall next to the girl. The room was silent until Axel realized that they were waiting for him to speak. He coughed into his hand.

"We're in desperate need. This is Roxas, my nephew. My sister, his mother, is suffering from, ah, smallpox. She's left him to my care, but I don't have enough money to take care of him."

"Looks like he doesn't even have enough money to wash his shirts," Riku whispered to the girl. She giggled, though she never took her eyes from the book. However, Roxas was staring with wide eyes, his shoulders tense, and mouth slightly agape, at Axel.

"It seems you're nephew doesn't believe your story," DiZ commented as he turned his back towards them.

"He's a little shocked that I told the whole story. He doesn't like thinking about his poor mother. His father recently died, as well. Long hours at the mills and all, so I'm the last person he can turn to, and you're the last person I can turn to."

The girl placed her book in her lap as she turned to look at both of them, though she seemed particularly interested in staring at Roxas.

"Kairi?" DiZ asked expectantly. She glanced back at him with an easy smile and nodded. "How much are you asking for?"

"Two hundred," Axel responded just a little too quickly.

"One hundred and fifty," Kairi said with a last glance at Roxas and then picked up her book.

"One hundred and fifty is all you will get. Riku, get them the money and send them on their way."

Later, Axel recalled how he had barely been able to control himself as the boy had counted out the twenty and ten dollar bills. The money was kept snugly in his pocket, and he would beat any pickpocket who decided to move it within an inch of their lives. Of course, he would get a new shirt first, but he placed his arm firmly around Roxas's shoulders.

"Now, it's time for part two. Time to get you and your magic key registered, yeah?"

Roxas glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, and he wished that he would move his arm. "That was a really stupid lie."

"Hey, it could have been true for all I know. It isn't a lie if you don't know if it's not true."

"That was a lie and you know it, Axel. I'm not stupid."

"Heh, but now we have money, and we're going to make it grow. By Sunday, we'll have paid them back with plenty left over." Including his debt to the Organization, he thought gleefully.


	4. The Catch

Chapter Title: The Catch 

**A/N: Apologizing in advance for one line of this chapter's, uh, guest star. I'm not racist, I'm just looking at the climate of the time period. Please don't take offense, because then you'd ruin the fun of this AU. Heh. The chapter after this is going to be fun as hell to write. Listened to Killing Lights and 37mm, by AFI. Good music! **

Axel felt so much better without the bloodstains on his shirt. He almost looked normal, except for the bruises and swelling on his face. However, he didn't attract stares anymore. The stadium for the battles rested in the middle of the city. As he and Roxas neared it, he couldn't help but notice how clean the outside looked.

In a world of brick and wooden buildings, the sunlight glaring off the metal was enough to blind the unsuspecting at just the right angle. The pavement was free of the typical weeds and cracks, looking as if it had been set just the day before. It stood tall and bright among the dismal surroundings, and everyone avoided it. Roxas wanted to avoid it too, but Axel's guiding arm wouldn't let him.

They stopped outside the doors, where a man sat in his chair, asleep. His hat rested over his head, and long brunette locks could be seen flaring out in the wind. Axel kicked his leg while Roxas pressed his face to the glass. He couldn't see inside the building. Darkness was well kept inside. He frowned and looked back at the yawning man.

"What do you want?" the man asked as he lifted his cap from his eyes. He blinked sleepily and stood up, dusting his pants off. Roxas thought it was a wasted effort. There was no dust. "Axel. Been a real long time. What do you want?" he narrowed his eyes.

"I'm here to register a competitor," Axel replied, sticking his chest out. "Is that a problem, Marluxia?"

Marluxia's turned to look at Roxas. He walked over towards him and grabbed his wrist. Roxas pulled it away quickly with an angry, "Hey!" Marluxia chuckled as he pulled out a set of keys from his pocket. He looked at each key individually, slowly, and precisely.

"You must be out of your mind this time," he commented with a glance towards Axel. "Rather skinny to be a real entry." He turned the key sharply and the door responded with a click and opened slowly. Marluxia walked inside, followed quickly by Axel.

"Why'd he do that, Axel?" Roxas demanded, not having moved from his spot outside. Axel and Marluxia stopped and turned to face him. Marluxia smirked with narrowed eyes, his hands lazily at his side.

Axel shrugged and said with reassurance, "It's because he's an opinionated bastard. Now let's go, we can't wait all day, for God's sake." He walked towards Roxas and grabbed his arm to pull him along. Roxas glanced around at the shrouded surroundings as he was led along.

"I'm starting to think this isn't a good idea. What are these fights, Axel?"

"Oh, did he not explain what the fights are?" Marluxia asked gleefully as he stopped in front of a door. He turned to look at the pairing. Roxas's stubborn frown, and Axel's hand covering his frustrated brow. "Because that's really not fair that he's entering you. Really, for someone like you, it's almost a death wish."

"A death wish?" Roxas echoed, his eyebrows raising and his frown vanishing.

"Yes, a death wish. These fights, kid, are not meant to be survived. They're the cruel, cruel cousin of the Roman Coliseum." He laughed at Roxas's mortified face, ignoring the fury shaking within Axel's shoulders. "In fact, no one has survived yet. Mostly we get down and out negroes that--"

"Will you shut up?" Axel demanded as he shoved Marluxia against the wall. "You know me," he said saccharine sweet. "I wouldn't drag a kid to his death. Now open the damned door so we can get this registration finished."

Roxas folded his arms as Axel backed away from the shocked man, who quickly turned around and opened the door. Roxas immediately covered his nose, because the smell was terrible. "What is that?" he demanded as he backed away.

"Blood. Human blood and the smell of starved heartless," Marluxia replied, though lacking his former relish. "There's only one part to the registration. We have to make sure that you're not a Nobody."

Roxas's shoulders tensed and his eyes widened. His hands dropped away from his face and he quickly shook his head. "No, I don't want to do this. Count me out." The clicks and chirps of the heartless in the room beyond stirred to life. Roxas backed farther away, leaving Axel and Marluxia to stare at him in confusion.

The sounds grew louder, escalated into what Marluxia assumed was the horrifying cries of hunger. The larger heartless began roaring and shouting and raging. The cages could be heard buckling, and he could swear something was tearing and snapping. The kid looked pale and frightened at all the utter racket. Marluxia was surprised that he hadn't run away yet.

He was shocked when Axel snatched the door from his hands and slammed it shut. The next thing he knew, a small heartless had thrown itself at the boy, and was tearing at his chest. Some of the gashes were deep, and the boy was just too shocked to respond. The little black thing latched itself into his skin and would not let go as Axel grabbed it and yanked it away from Roxas with a ripping sound.

Roxas fell forward to his knees. Somewhere, someone was shouting. _Kill it, God damnit! Shoot it, Marluxia, shoot it! _

_"You'll be okay, right? You'll be… Please be okay. I've got to help Sora… Please be okay," _he heard the feminine voice in the back of his memories, tinged with worry and regret.

Axel held the squirming heartless in his hands. It bit him and he threw it against the wall, where it bounced back and ran towards Roxas again. "Shoot it, Marluxia!" he shouted with frustration even as the man produced the gun and pulled the trigger. They looked at each other, Axel breathing more heavily than he should have.

"You're bleeding," Marluxia said at last and Axel looked down at his bitten hand. "That's funny. They've never went so far as to bite a Nobody to get at a human heart." Axel covered the wound with his hand and turned to look at Roxas, who had not moved. The boy's breaths came in labored gasps, and Axel could tell he really wasn't seeing them.

"For such a small heartless, I've never seen so much damage." Why didn't he call his keyblade? Axel wondered. "Marluxia, get some bandages. Quick, he's gone into shock."

"Alright, Axel," Marluxia said with a smirk as he turned to the first aid kit near the door. "He's not a Nobody. Sure you're not leading him to his death?" The door rattled and the dents made from claws on the other side could be seen. A loud cry of rage could be heard.

When Roxas woke up, the first thing he noticed was the aching pain in his back where the springs of the worn mattress pressed into his skin. The bandages around his chest restricted his movement. He couldn't quite sit up, so he rolled over. The blazing pain in his chest flared, and he could almost feel himself bleeding. Axel stared over him.

"You awake kid?" Roxas grunted in response. "Good. You're all set for this weekend. Just try not to let today happen again." Roxas glared at the lamp by the bed, at the broken burned shards of the broken light bulb.

Axel shirted the weight on his feet. It could be heard against the scratchy carpet. The seats were ripped and cheap foam was pouring out of them. The one bed was stained, and not from the bandages on Roxas's chest. He noticed Roxas's glare and rolled his eyes. Really, the kid should be thanking him.

After all, despite the strange stares of the cab driver, the hotel manager, and even a few pedestrians, he rented the room so Roxas could relax and, hopefully, get better. It was a lot for the boy, after his pathetic performance that afternoon. He went into the bathroom to hopefully find some way to give the boy water.

He wondered dimly how he always seemed to choose the most broken down places. The sheer grime covering the entire room was enough to send him back into the bedroom. He could hear Roxas's hacking cough from the bed. It would be his luck that the boy was allergic to mold.

_"So does this have anything to do with your debt to the Organization?" _

He frowned at the memory of Marluxia's question.

_"I see Larxene's already been to see you about that. I don't think this boy will be any help to you."_

"Why do they have to see if you're a Nobody?" Axel almost didn't hear the question. It was quiet. Roxas hadn't intended to say it out loud.

"Because the heartless won't attack a Nobody," Axel replied as he took a seat in one of the broken down chairs. The air conditioner clicked on and hummed brokenly. The room reeked from the humidity and the lack of cleaning. Axel could feel the precipitation on his forehead. Never quite enough to form sweat.

Roxas rolled onto his back with a small cry. He hoped Axel didn't hear it. "Why… Why won't they attack Nobodies?"

Axel sighed and rested his chin in his hand. He looked at the faded flower wallpaper. Roxas frowned, wondering why he didn't answer. "Axel?"

"It's because they don't have hearts. Heartless only kill to survive, and they feed off of hearts. Nobodies are a waste of space to them."

Roxas smiled to himself. He felt happier than he had in ages, and he wanted to hug Axel. He should hug Axel. But he couldn't forget that Axel wanted him to throw away his life. And for what? Money. He frowned at the ceiling. That was right.

"One more question," Roxas said was as angry a tone as he could affect.

"Shoot."

"Why didn't you take off my shirt before bandaging me up? It's kind of itchy."

"It would have been itchy anyway, kid. Wounds tend to do that." Tell that to his tender nose. He leaned forward and clapped his hands together. "This Saturday, you need to use that keyblade. Save it for when everyone thinks you're down and out, and then bam!" he grinned. "They'll be knocked off their feet and we'll be rich. You wanna know what the odds are against you? A thousand to one, that's what! If we bet the money we have, we'll get back over ten thousand. Doesn't that sound great?"

"Whatever," Roxas said with a sigh as he slowly forced himself to sit up. "I'm gonna die, aren't I?"

Axel wagged his finger and shook his head with a mischievous grin. "You say it like that, and you will. But you forget that keyblade of yours. You just pull it out and--"

"I don't know how to call it," Roxas interrupted.

"What?" Axel asked, dumbfounded.

"I don't know how to. It just comes, sometimes. Most of the time, I run." He frowned at the covers.

"Why didn't you run earlier today? When I met you, I watched you. Most people would have run, but you didn't. That's why I thought--"

"I was starving this morning." He was starving now, his stomach reminded him angrily. "I didn't want to run. So, why do I have to die so you can get the money?"

Axel opened his mouth to respond, but quickly shut it and stood up to pace. Roxas watched him curiously before he turned to him and snapped, "It's not just for me." He paced some more before stopping in the center of the room and running a hand through his hair, though it really seemed more like he was pulling at it.

" You aren't doing it for me," he said through clenched teeth. "You're doing it because you don't want to go back to the way it was before. Because there is no other way."

"There's the mills--"

"You think that that won't kill you? Oh, how deluded you are. How wonderfully deluded. And that's the only place you could go. You're doing it because I know you can survive if you… Ugh.. Go to sleep!"

He yanked the sting to the light above them both, and the room was dark. Roxas watched him walk to the door and throw it open angrily. He vanished into the hall and pulled the door shut behind him.

Well, he didn't have to throw a temper tantrum about it, Roxas thought in annoyance. He wasn't the one who was going to fight. In fact, Roxas wondered why he was still going to do it, himself. He laid back and frowned.

He didn't owe Axel anything, he thought as he closed his eyes.


	5. Game of Chance

Title:Game of Chance 

**A/N: Well, this chapter took forever and even got really, really awkward to write. The only easy dialogue was that between Axel and Demyx. The rest was just.. ugh. A huge portion of this chapter really should have been part of the last chapter. I'll fix that when I get around to rewriting. This will be the last update for a spell, as well. I've got to cycle this story to the back of the line to be updated. Considering the line is short, ya'll won't mind, right?**

**Also, I'm kind of loathe to put this warning here, as it really is kind of a spoiler, but I'd better do it before I catch flak for it. Axel is a real asshole in this chapter. And his intentions are only going to get worse before they get better. Please remember that for later chapters!**

"Shot, please," Axel said with his head hung low. The bar appeared extra bright that night, but it was still early. The smoke hung just barely in the air as the stage set up. Patrons ventured inside in sets of twos and threes.

The blond bartender raised an eyebrow at his usual customer and vanished into the back. Minutes later, long enough for Axel's hands to twitch at every incessant giggle from the newcomer next to him, he reappeared, moonshine in hand. "You look like hell."

Axel snatched the glass and downed its contents before Demyx could say anything else. "I think I feel like it."

"What happened?" he asked curiously as Axel raised his hand for one more shot. The redhead didn't respond and Demyx's attention started to wander towards the stage, where the piano chimed notes with no sense of rhyme or reason. He cringed. Heavy steps clicked across the raised platform and the curtain drew over it to cover their terrible noise.

"Larxene," Axel breathed at last with a bitter laugh. "Bitch caught me off guard. Small girl, lots of punch."

"That's because she doesn't pull punches. Maybe you didn't believe me when I told you that," Demyx said as he set another glass in front of Axel. He didn't care about the money. Axel realized as much as well, and he was in no hurry to let the bartender know he actually had some. "That's why you shouldn't have borrowed from them."

"I had to feed the habit, Demyx. It's about the only thing I can think of to do."

Demyx shrugged and looked away from Axel. "That's why most Nobodies don't last as long as you and I." He didn't place another glass in front of Axel, and Axel wanted to kill him. He was just starting to get a little bit tipsy, and Demyx had to ruin the feeling by saying something he didn't want to consider.

"So, you're not playing tonight?" Axel asked with a flex of his fingers. He turned to face the growing crowd. Loose skirts and ties, and the stronger smell of perfume. It seemed that an entirely different crowd had come out of the woodwork that night. Likely because it was Friday. If he thought he could get one of those girls alone, he could think of some other things to do after all.

"No." Axel involuntarily jerked at Demyx's eventual answer. He had been so lost in staring at that one girl, all by herself, that he'd forgotten he was even talking to the man. "Not tonight. Tonight, some girl is supposed to be singing. I think her name is--"

"Don't care," Axel interrupted smoothly as he watched the strong pair of legs that passed him. She giggled at his stare and waved. He could definitely think of things to do with her. They could pass hours, he thought with a wistful smirk.

"How are you going to pay them back?" Demyx asked with a shrug. Her hair was too curly for his tastes. It looked about ready to eat her head. But he knew Axel's attention was lost, and it was just like the old days. Axel frowned to himself, his leer suddenly ruined by the reminder of his debt. Roxas had to win tomorrow, he realized. Otherwise, his head would be on a platter by Sunday.

"You say something?" Axel asked without glancing back. Demyx shook his head and chairs scraped roughly against the floor, all over the floor, and laughing people couldn't decide whether they wanted to sit or stand up. Managers behind the curtains were heaving and sighing and lighting their squished cigarettes moments before the curtain call.

Axel turned and face the younger man. He ran his hand down his face with a grunt, hoping that Demyx would take the hint and fill him up again.

The bright notes of a trumpet rang out, high above the crowd and their ruckus. The curtains shifted and the player smirked from his hidden position. Cheers and whistles sounded, though none of them really knew what they were cheering for. Axel sunk against his elbows with a cry of dismay.

"What's wrong with you?" Demyx asked with a disgusted frown towards him.

"This might be the last night I'll get to hear jazz," Axel said quietly, pensively staring at the far off grooves of the counter.

Demyx shrugged and finally filled his empty glass, though somewhat disdainful of the redhead's surly mood. "You're not going to pay them back?"

"No, I've got one shot, but there's a catch. There's always a catch," he trailed off as he closed his eyes. The lights dimmed and the curtain drew back with a loud swish. Insipid giggled and inane chatter fell silent to thunderous cheers and vigorous hammering from the bright trumpet. They were transfixed, as if the very pied piper were playing that evening.

The spell broke and everything clattered as people danced and drinks almost passed themselves around the bar. Demyx leaned forward, ignoring the sullen stares of his comrades. "What's the catch?"

"The will to survive," Axel said with a note of finality and drank his drink. "Give me some for the road, Demyx."

"What?" Demyx cried in dismay even as he reached for the bottle to pass it to the man before him. "Why?"

"Because, either I can toast to my success or die a happy man. And I'd suggest we leave it at that."

Axel made his way home, his treasure tucked tightly beneath his arm. Heartless clicked and chirped, subdued by the occasional gunshot and shout. They weren't quite hungry enough yet. Their beady eyes looked away and vanished as the pink began to settle on the far edges of the sky.

He entered the hotel room and sat in the uncomfortable chair, waiting until the sun had finally fully risen to wake the sleeping boy.

Roxas struck out at the attacker, the person shoving his shoulder with a complete lack of care. He heard a loud cry, something about a nose, and string of colorful curses before he was unceremoniously thrown out of bed. His wounds seethed and he cried out in pain, finally opening his eyes. Axel's shoulders were hunched and his face was unusually red.

"Get up!" Axel shouted breathlessly. He blinked back the tears in his eyes and stormed to the center of the room. He wished he could have knocked the kid around some more for punching him in his nose of all places.

"You ass, that hurt," Roxas said as he pushed himself up against the bed. Axel could have laughed and wept at how pathetic he looked. His clothing was in shreds, and anyone who didn't know any better might think the haphazard bandages were really designed to hold his bloody shirt together.

"You've got a big day today," Axel said slowly, forcing himself to smile. He looked evil, Roxas noted as he took an uneasy step. "I know you can wow them all at the tournament." Hopefully he'd last long enough to beat everyone else. Whether or not he died afterwards, Axel didn't care.

"Axel, I don't think--"

"I don't care what you think," Axel cut him off sharply, sweetly. Fake. "You're going to have a good day. We need to go now."

"What?" Roxas asked, confused by Axel's tone. He didn't seem the same smooth talking man from before. Was he nervous, Roxas wondered to himself as he walked towards the man, even though he wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. Before he had time to react, Axel was dragging him out of the room, the cheap motel hiding by the light haze of smoke. What was burning, Roxas couldn't tell. He pulled his arm away, roughly. "Stop it. I'm not doing this."

Axel stopped, his hands balling up into fists as he resisted the urge to hit that lucky homeless man without a care in the world. He looked over his shoulder where Roxas waited uneasily, still there by some miracle or maybe a sense of guilt. Axel smirked and pushed his hair back as he turned to face the boy. "I understand that you're scared, Roxas. Hell, I'm a little on edge, myself." He placed his hands together in steeple fashion, as his smile waned under his frustration.

"But what option do you have? Think hard, and don't just throw out some half-assed, half thought answer. What other opportunity is knocking you in the head?"

"But that guy said no one's ever survived," Roxas said, ignoring the jump in pitch his voice had just done.

"No one has ever had a keyblade. You've got the best trump card of them all, and you're panicking over Marluxia's words?"

"I'm hurt," he muttered as he cast his glance to the wet gutters.

"You want to live. In a fight to the death, what the hell else matters?" His fingers twitched and his face looked stretched, as people pushed past them. Curses surrounded them and some people stopped to stare at Roxas's bloody clothing.

From windows above, angry widows cried out their dismayed greetings to the birds eating at their lovely flower boxes and youngsters from below laughed, hoping that would never be them.

Roxas looked at Axel, taking him in and the world around them. Flies buzzed over their heads and children picked helplessly through halfway hidden piles of garbage. The lively timbre in the faces of the crowd around them and their every stinking breath and the proposition before him had never seemed so out of place. He swallowed and nodded, mouthing the word "okay."

He hated Axel as the man smirked and parted the crowds with a triumphant, "What are you all staring at? Get lost!" As quickly as they had come, so they went and Roxas had no choice but to follow the redhead before him. He hated him for leading him to think, or to realize, that he really had no choice now.

Once at the stadium, Axel gratefully separated from the boy, glad to be free from his sullen stare that hurt his shoulder blades. He was glad to be among the equally heartless, the gamblers, thieves, addicts, and occasional murderer. He patted the wad of cash laying in his wallet, and he couldn't help the smile of satisfaction.

He approached the counters, where three indolent book keepers were writing down bets and collecting cash. He frowned at the man ahead of him, the man who only lived at the casinos.

"My my, what do we have here?" he said as he turned to face Axel, leather glove resting against his grizzled chin. Marluxia stood next to him.

"Luxord, Marluxia," he said, curt, dismissive. He took out the money and shoved past them.

Marluxia waved his hand airily, saying as mockingly as he could, "Why it's Axel. Come to bet on your man? I hope you've got something up your sleeve, because his performance last time was utterly pathetic. Even the scrawniest negro can do better."

"Shut up, Marluxia."

"So he's betting on that Roxas kid? With what?" Luxord asked with an intense stare at the cash in Axel's hands. He smirked as the bookkeeper wrote the number down, waving the amount away. "You would do better trying to bribe Larxene with that, Axel. Of course, she's just dying to get her hands on you again. You know how she is."

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," Marluxia added with a merry chirp.

Axel narrowed his eyes at the two of them. "Keep talking, but by the end of the day, you'll both be wishing you were me," he said, mustering up all the bravado he could. He would really, really hate to eat his words.

"I highly doubt I'd ever, ever want to be you," Luxord commented dolefully as he turned to walk away.

"That's not what you said in the old days," Axel shouted, furious at the retreating figure. He glared at Marluxia, who didn't seem as eager to taunt him without an audience. "Get away from me."

"With pleasure."

They went their separate ways as the announcer began shouting statistics, egging the crowd on with the occasional insult here and there. It worked beautifully. People every where were shouting and screaming, tearing their hair out, ready to see the first unlucky contestant. They all wanted a little blood.

The dark skin of the first one gleamed, and he wore the face of a man already dead. His gun was held at his side, the dreadful six-gage looking so insignificant. The crowd sneered, knowing what his fate would soon be. He lasted not even a minute. The heartless, once released from their cages surrounded him.

Their shapes were indiscernible, simply a ring of darkness growing ever smaller. His blood spattered as they ripped at him, attempting to get their grubby claws on the heart inside, and feeding off his every dark heart until he was dead, a corpse with a newly emerged heartless standing over it.

They all went the same way, though some put up more of a fight. One shot himself before the heartless could ever get near him. And then there was Roxas. The only contestant to be greeted by laughter and jeers. Axel leaned forward in his seat, clutching the railing with his hands. Roxas couldn't hear any of their shouts. He could only see the heartless and know he was going to die.

Seconds it seemed the world had paused. If not for the jeering crowd, Axel would have thought it had. The heartless didn't rush at their new bit of food, and Roxas did not rush forward to them. The crowd grew impatient as their laughter died and angry shouts arose. Some started shouting 'nobody' as some sort of chant, a story of unfairness.

Then the heartless stirred, and with a a cry of rage, they surged forward. The early one latched onto his shoulder and Roxas flung him away, with steps back. Axel covered his face with his hands, uttering an awkward prayer. Please, use the keyblade. Now's the time. He won't last more than a minute.

He heard Roxas cry out in pain and his shoulders started to shake with anger and frustration at the hopelessness of the situation.

They were upon him, and Roxas had never realized how atrocious they really looked before. He fought them with his hands, throwing them away, but he was surrounded and they latched onto any unguarded spot. He'd never realized how painful they were, their claws burned into his skin like poison.

People shouted the boy's death, even as he was struggling. Laughter and jeers resumed and Axel felt a headache growing in the corners of his mind, a migraine. He stood up to walk away, but was stopped by the scream of a heartless. Shouts of awe and curses of cheating, never mind it was just chance. He looked back to the fight below, gleaming metal could be seen amidst the darkness.

Roxas swung furiously, the heartless that were poured on top of him gave one final cry before vanishing completely. He was a bloody mess, wounds atop the old, burning with the sand of the floor. The heartless surged forward again, and he fought.

The crowd gave an agonizing yell as time passed further and further on. As soon as Roxas's time had passed all the others before him, Axel laughed and ran to the bookkeeper. He was home free, he thought with a grim smile. Oh, but wouldn't Larxene be disappointed?

"Quite a streak of luck there, Axel. Just when thought your had completely run out," Luxord said as he placed a hand on his shoulder. Axel grinned smugly, as the bills were counted and handed to him.

"Just the luck of the draw."

"I think your boy might actually survive this fight. Really unbelievable."

"Marluxia must be having a fit," Axel said with a shrug, the money firmly in his hands. He turned to face Luxord, and eventually to push past him.

"You know, there's an even bigger prize for a fight like this," Luxord trailed off and Axel stopped. Angry gamblers were pouring in around them and out of the stadium, cursing their luck, heartless cries growing ever more quiet.

"Really?" He glanced over his shoulder.

"Yes. For a heartless that is immune to gunshots. They call it the unbeatable heartless. Whoever beats it gets a very nice chunk of cash."

"I always was one for the money," Axel said, placing a thoughtful hand to his chin before he walked away from Luxord and back out to the stadium in time to see Roxas collapse in an exhausted heap, the battle ground devoid of any heartless.


	6. Darker Sides

Chapter Title: Darker Sides 

**A/N: Ok, I lied. I just decided to put everything else on hold until I finished this. Why? Because this story is much more insistent to my muse. Besides, we're starting to delve deeper into the plot, thanks to this chapter. The strings are just now starting to come loose, and I've got a few ups and downs planned for ya'll along the way. For those of you wondering, this is an OC-free story. I want to see how well I can keep everyone IC, so all the roles I need filled will be filled by the KH cast.**

**I'm also going to try, in later chapters, to explain some of the particulars about this universe. Demyx started to point out some of them, but, hey, revealing too much does not make a good story. So, enjoy! And leave me a comment or two, okay:3**

They were very tidy about their bandages, those doctors. They changed them every hour it seemed like, and the boy never even stirred. Apparently the damage had been worse than Axel had originally thought. Eyes staring pointedly over spectacles as the list of problems was recited to him. Infections, malnourishment, lack of sleep, and the loss of blood.

Axel waved it off, wanting to know how quickly he could get Roxas out of the hospital. Hospitals cost lots of money, and they did nothing more than he could have done himself, and he wondered how much better those nurses were in their tight skirts, with their little caps, strutting around like they were some sort of angel.

The doctor had something interesting to show him. Nothing could be interesting in that sterilized environment, where he could only smell the ethanol and bleach. They peered over the raised scars on Roxas's back, and the boy only sighed in his drug induced sleep.

Etched deep, puffed out and red, was the word 'Nobody' in hasty scrawl. Axel looked away with a cringe. He couldn't imagine the pain of someone taking a knife to his back like that. The doctor looked at him expectantly and he walked away. There was nothing else that could be said, and he had his own matters to attend to. Gray walls crowded behind him as he walked away.

The message written on Roxas's back wasn't important. It very obviously wasn't true, and it wasn't his concern anyway. He half suspected that the doctor showed him in order to goad him into spending more money that the boy didn't need. Besides, wasn't it bad enough that he would have to share his money? Or at least pretend he was sharing?

The city wasn't much friendlier. As he walked past parks and streets and alleys, he noticed that not being destitute didn't change anything. The sights were still the same, and he was overlooked by the people. Mothers and their children passed him, while construction workers with lazy drawls continued chatting as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

Axel smirked to himself, sun beating down on him and money hidden in various places throughout his person. A trolley rolled past him, it's bell chiming in the wind. Cats and dogs announced themselves in a crazy frenzy from the alleyways and heartless clicked and gnashed their teeth from the shadows.

On the streets, women in outrageous hats and traditional dresses flooded from the releasing churches. Soulful singing could be heard from the rundown church on the corner as black men poured out, clapping their hands and praising the Lord. Axel could have laughed. It was all so petty. Men and women chatted merrily, and the friendly bars were closed in observance of Sunday.

No whores on the streets, no beggars wantonly strewn about, the homeless had lifted themselves to convenient corners to collect handouts from those renewed with the Lord's generous spirit. Because apparently His spirit was fleeting and was typically gone by Monday evening, where the same jovial men tended to drown their sorrows in alcohol and jazz.

Jazz. That was what Axel enjoyed, almost more than he enjoyed having wads of cash at his disposal, knowing that he could do anything he would like and no one would say otherwise. Even the purist of saints had a weak spot for money, and Axel had a weak spot for jazz. He hated Sunday, because there was no jazz on Sunday.

He saw the trolley stop ahead, with young people jostling and shoving. Their faces were screwed up in laughter, some in anger, some just wanted to look silly. Axel moved past them and took a seat, wishing he could walk the rest of the distance. But he could afford to take a trolley. After all, the scenery was supposed to be lovely.

There was supposed to be something poignant about the cobblestones and brick buildings, even the rotting wooden buildings and the abandoned shanties. Whoever said the scenery was beautiful must have had a better, or blinder, eye than him, he mused as more people crowded together and some stood in the aisles. With a jerk, the trolley moved forward.

Strings of conversation surrounded him. All sounding particularly like something between many mothers and their young children. People always sounded that way when they spoke. Loud, unruly, talking about nothing in particular. Axel closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. It would be a long ride.

Perhaps walking would have been worth it. Minutes passed without a change in the hectic environment, people talking, everywhere, and they dragged on. Axel was glad when the trolley neared the central part of the city. He growled at the packed sidewalks. There was no escaping decent people, not on a Sunday.

He weaved through the crowd, shoving and being shoved. Buildings loomed over him and the streets were covered in shadows. Police patrolled, and the crowds shifted to make room. Axel cursed, ignored the glares. The building he wanted seemed far off, like an oasis in the distance with it's brick and wood coverings.

He could smell alcohol as he opened the door. The shelves lined with food, freezers glowed from the back. Behind the counter, he was glared at by a surly and well-muscled employee.

"Come to pay up?" he demanded, flexing his muscles for good effect. Axel nodded, with a quick glance around the store.

"You're the only one here today, Lexaeus? You mean they trust you to count money?" he asked, a nasty smile creeping across his face and Lexaeus just shrugged, ignoring the commentary.

"Everyone is downstairs," he stated with a frown. "I'd be careful. Larxene's quite ready to pounce."

"I know she is," Axel muttered as he pressed along his sides, looking for the pocket he shoved the two thousand dollars into. "But she's got to be joking if she thinks she'll get me twice." Lexaeus chuckled dryly. He wished he was talking to anyone but Axel. The clock on the wall ticked softly and Axel produced the money, which Lexaeus took without another word.

They descended the stairs in silence. Lexaeus counted the money and chuckled again, adding, "That's a thousand too much, Axel." Axel cursed softly.

"Well, give me the extra," he snapped and Lexaeus turned, handing the money over, still laughing. Axel hated his laugh with a passion. There was nothing more infuriating than knowing the hulking man was laughing at him, and he hated Larxene for setting him up.

"Larxene likes to play jokes, apparently," he said softly as the reached the bottom of the stairs, the room dark, lit only with mellow neon lights. Smoke pervaded the room and Axel gagged. It was stronger than even in the bars, and the alcohol mixed with it easily. Strings of conversation stopped, replaced by soft laughter.

The room was exceptionally cold, probably to suit the taste of its inhabitants. Lexaeus made his way towards the center of the room around the many tables, where he handed the money to the group's Superior. Axel rolled his eyes at the thought of the title, and he heard Larxene scowl from some dark corner.

He wished he could see her face. The laughter stopped, replaced by shuffles, coughing, and an awkward silence. Lexaeus whispered something to the Superior and walked away, leaving Axel to fend for himself. He ascended the stairs with a grim smile, much preferring to be behind the counter than in that dark room.

"Axel, you got the money," the Superior, Xemnas, began. Axel shrugged and forced a grin onto his face. "I am very surprised."

"What can I say? I'm a crafty bastard."

Marluxia and Luxord shifted, watching him from their hidden positions, laughing at his lying. He was rather good at keeping a straight face. Too bad his poker game had went to hell. Guns clicked playfully and Axel shifted uncomfortably. More laughter.

"Yes. I suppose it goes without saying that you're in good standing with our organization again. Welcome back to the fold," Xemnas laughed. "Sit, have a drink. Maybe a cigarette."

Axel glanced around, trying to pick out who was there. Everyone. He wanted to look disgusted. Did they not have anything better to do? He quickly waved his hand and shook his head. "No thanks. I have other things to attend to." Like getting the kid out of the hospital, investments at the bank, and perhaps even a romping night with the first beautiful woman he saw on the street. He turned away, ignoring their silence and the pounding stares at his back and ascended the stairs.

Xemnas waited until the redhead's footsteps had officially vanished, along with the tinkling sound of the door's bell. He laughed again and counted the money, ignoring the continuing uncomfortable silence from all his subordinates. Chairs scuffed against the concrete floor, and the damp, cold air permeated the skins of those around him. But he liked the feeling, the isolation, the room provided.

He smiled, "Speak, Luxord."

Luxord smiled, head laid against the concrete blocks that formed the wall. "He didn't get that money all by himself, you know." Xemnas didn't respond and the silence dragged on as Luxord preferred to let his words sink in. Larxene twitched and Zexion rolled his eyes. Luxord tended to use too many theatrics.

Zexion leaned forward against the table, asking as dolefully as he could, "And?"

Luxord smiled. "He had a little help at the heartless fights, didn't he, Marluxia?"

All eyes turned towards Marluxia and he shrugged. "He registered a skinny kid. Couldn't have been more than sixteen."

"The odds were a thousand to one, and Axel placed a little over a hundred," Luxord continued, moving towards the center of the room. Deep chuckles followed his every move. Jeers and sneers seemed to lighten the dark room. "Needless to say, the kid won."

"What?" Larxene interjected wildly and loudly, slamming her fists down on the table in front of her. Zexion gave her a disgusted look and waved her to be silent.

"Keep to your place," he reminded her darkly. "How did this kid win, if the odds were so stacked?" In the corner, someone laughed. Marluxia.

He sneered as all eyes looked towards him. "Some sort of fancy sword. He sliced through the heartless as if they weren't even there, much more effective than guns." The room grew colder with the Superior's stare and Marluxia's sneer fell from his face. "The boy survived though."

"Vexen, Larxene," Xemnas called out. Larxene twitched while Vexen simply stood and moved towards the front of the room. "I want you two to keep an eye on Axel and his new little friend. With such abilities as the boy has, we could make a bigger fortune than what Axel is thinking." All eyes waited expectantly, knowing there was something else that he wanted to say. "And Axel is definitely trying to tug at our heart strings." He laughed dryly and alone.


	7. Quick Breather

**Title: Quick Breather**

**A/N: Here's chapter seven! Woot! It wasn't so bad to type as I thought it would be. Had some fun with trying to smoothly transition the POV. I know, it's not hard considering it's omniscient, but I really do not like having breaks in the writing to signify that I've changed locations. Hopefully you guys won't get confused on the use of pronouns. **

**Anyway, I saw this done in another fic, and I thought it wasn't a bad idea. I really would like to thank all 27 of you who have this fic on your watchlists. Really, I'm blushing. I'd REALLY like to thank all 22 of you who have this fic on your faves list. I'd like to thank all the people who have been reviewing since forever. It makes me happy. But I'd like to reach 50 reviews. That'll make this the most review series I've had since my crappy Gundam Wing fanfiction days. I'm not holding the fic hostage or anything, I'm going to update if I never get another review. But to my 50th reviewer, I'll dedicate a special chapter to. Thanks! Enjoy the next chapter!**

Larxene folded her arms across her chest, her hands gripping the cloth of her shirt and red covering her face. She snarled and bared her teeth at the weed-ridden concrete, devoid of life except for the greedy eyes from the shadows. She could feel her shoulders shaking and Vexen laughed at her hapless anger.

"You don't have to pretend, Larxene," he reminded her with a smug smile, his hands behind his back, relaxed where normal people weren't. The lampposts barely lit the ground, the glass covering the flickering bulbs was far too dirty from neglect. Metal stained with rust, he could almost smell it stir in the wind.

She laughed at his words and kicked the concrete uselessly. "I don't think I'm pretending," she muttered and forced her hands to her sides, flexing them, needing to rake her nails against some defenseless sap. Didn't even need to be defenseless, but she'd much rather ready screams than having to work for them.

"Then it's nothing more than a strong memory," he smirked at the nighttime sky, distant trumpet squeals could be heard, and the dim roar of a crowd. Closer to the center of Chicago, where the ground would be covered by more than abandoned pieces of the Chicago Tribune and dust. "But a memory of what, I must wonder."

She smiled with narrowed eyes at the side of his face, her hands moving to rest on her hips. "Vexen, that's almost as rude as asking a lady her age, don't you know?"

"No, I didn't," he replied all matter of fact. A taller heartless scuttled by and they both moved to cover their noses. "That must be an older one." They followed its hunched walk, hearing what was either labored breath or a hushed laugh. Larxene wanted to throw the damned thing against the wall and make it scream. Vexen wished heartless could talk.

"How could you tell?" she muttered and swallowed, as if that would make the lingering smell of death pass.

"It's amazing," Vexen trailed off absently. The wind carried the smell away and the steps on the streets ahead could be heard, and the joyful laughing and somewhere behind them someone screamed. Larxene smiled, music to her ears. "Heartless can survive for so long. Who knows how old the oldest ones are?"

"Vexen, stop. We're almost there, and I don't want to hear your inane theories," Larxene snapped and Vexen frowned, a cleverly disguised pout. Posters from the walls around them fluttered nervously and then they crossed into the crowded streets. People danced and shoved. Gleeful cheers and drunken songs grated against Larxene's sensitive head and she hated Axel's haunts.

Neon lights and the strong smell of fresh alcohol surrounded them. Cops with wine stains on their shirts leaned against the walls lazily, and there was jazz. Larxene hated jazz. She shoved past people roughly and towards the bright doors of the bars, soprano singing that sounded too much like a record to be sincere. People laughed at her tomboy attire.

She sneered and Vexen followed her silently. They pushed their way past groping, drunken hands to the main bar where they both sat. Twitching, Larxene demanded for a drink. They stared at her slowly, and finally recognition dawned on the faces of one of them. He had slipped too many of his wares and he stumbled towards Larxene with a dopey grin.

"Long time no--"

"Where's Axel staying?" Larxene cut in sharply. "Quick now, Demyx. I don't have time to play your games."

"What?" he asked, oblivious. She wanted to wrap her hands around his throat, but there were far too many people there. It was also an unfortunate coincidence that he would be missed. "Axel left awhile ago, Larxene." She snarled and Vexen laughed at her.

"Demyx, I think you may be misunderstanding us," Vexen interjected smoothly. "We're not here for idle chit-chat, and Larxene's right. We aren't really interested in your games. Now tell us what we want to know, and we'll be on our way." Demyx's smile was frozen on his face as he looked between the two of them unsure. Vexen folded his hands in steeple fashion. Demyx didn't understand. "You seem to forget your own debt to us."

His expression faltered and Larxene cracked her knuckles. The room grew darker as the lights dimmed for the next singer, the main attraction. Men whistled and howled and girls laughed, tinkling full glasses together in high-spirited toasts. The floor shook from the commotion around them.

"He didn't tell me," Demyx said finally and loudly over the piano duet with saxophone accompaniments. "He was getting something set up, bought some alcohol, grabbed a girl and left." Larxene and Vexen looked at each other and back at Demyx. He swallowed nervously, placing the glass he had been holding onto the counter with a loud click. How long before he would have dropped it?

"Where did he get the money, the money he used in the bet?"

"I don't know," Demyx said with a sigh, even as the crowds pressed back against the bar yelling for more drinks and the music grew louder and the shrieking girl grew more emphatic in her song. Everyone couldn't have cared less about the bartender and his two acquaintances. "He came in two nights ago, and from what he said, I thought he was broke."

Larxene slammed her fists against the counter and then reached out to grab Demyx's shirt. "Next time he comes in here, I want you to get as much fucking information out of him as possible." Demyx nodded numbly and she let go of his shirt, looking back to Vexen. He smiled and shrugged.

"Dead lead. What about his other haunts, Larxene? You should be very familiar with them," he said with a smirk and Larxene shoved him away from her. She walked towards the exit without another word.

She watched the two of them leave, the blond man and woman. The bartender sighed in relief, though he still seemed nervous. She laughed to herself and vanished behind the curtains, safe in her solitude. She spread her dress and sat down, removing the gaudy earrings from her ears. Her bracelets clanked together and she ignored the rushing people around her.

The two of them must have been looking for Axel, she mused. She hoped they didn't find him. If they did, they'd find Roxas, and she didn't want him to get caught up in Axel's life. She hoped he left Axel soon. Axel was no good, and he didn't realize how far and wide his reputation actually carried. And Roxas was too desperate to care, if he did know.

She placed her hands over her face, makeup smudged and guilt weighing heavily against her. She shouldn't have abandoned him. She should have realized that a pair of clothes and a farewell wish wouldn't have been able to help the poor boy out. Not enough to save him from destitution.

"Are you okay?"

She looked up at her companion and smiled. "Yeah. Let's go." She should be glad Roxas was alive at all. If Roxas died, she would have to live with the guilt of hurting a part of Sora. Oh, but wouldn't that have been ironic? It was a lose-lose situation.

She could only remember his blank expression, like Roxas wasn't registering anything she said. He was too close to unconsciousness. What did he do once he woke up, she wondered as she stood. Her friend handed her cloak to her and she pulled it around herself. The stage manager rushed towards them hurriedly, assuring her that her money had been deposited in the bank.

"Thank you," she said with a smile and a nod. "I was glad to sing for you."

"Please, we should arrange it again. They love your singing, madam. Much more than any person I've seen here. We could draw a huge crowd if I promoted it," he trailed off thoughtfully, those greedy eyebrows knitted together in strenuous thought as her tried to predict the cost and profit of this venture he was planning.

She continued smiling and walked out the door. Wondering about Roxas and how he was doing.

_He'll be okay, she told herself as she walked away. He'll know how to survive, right?_

She brushed her hair out of her face.

_"Wait, come back," he called out feebly. She was too far away to hear. He pushed himself up against the wall. He hadn't ever been so cold. "Wait," he breathed, wanting that warm voice to come back. Clothes tumbled down onto the ground and he stared. He could hear the steady drop of water. He was scared and alone._

_"What's this?"_

_He whirled around, couldn't see, had no clue who was beside him, but could taste the grit from the ground. His mouth suddenly pushed against the ground and then searing pain, couldn't help but scream as loud as he could. Didn't know what else he could do._

Roxas opened his eyes, shivers wracking his body. But he had no strength to move. Tears rolled down his face. He was comfortable, he realized. He was in a soft bed and had a fluffy pillow against his head. The nightmare seemed so close, and his body was too comfortable and tired to move. Where was he?

He could feel his back sting, burn, ache in pain, but it seemed subdued. On the edge his mind. Roxas buried his face into the pillow, muffling a groan.

Laughter he hadn't even realized was there stopped. Slurred questions, and a rough, "Get out." Protests and then a loud slamming of the door. He cringed. Someone was next to him now. "You awake kid?" He moved his head away from the pillow and nodded numbly.

"The morphine must be wearing off," the man said. Red hair. He knew him. He tried to recall the name, but he was drawing blanks. "We've got more, for now." He walked away and Roxas felt something in his arm. The man was moving it, he could feel it. "There. Put some more in."

Roxas closed his eyes, and the stinging in his back vanished again. "Thank you, Axel," he murmured. He could hear Axel talking and he struggled to maintain attention, but it was so hard, he felt so drowsy. He was disconnected from his body, like he was watching himself from the ceiling.

Axel watched him fall asleep and shrugged. Should have figured that would happen as soon as he added more morphine to that stupid bottle. The room was dimly lit, new carpet against his feet. He walked out of the room and closed the door. Roxas would, hopefully, be out for the rest of the night. The fine lamps and hand carved tables and chairs, the fine couches and clean smell, Axel had missed them all in his destitution.

The city flashed brightly in the night from the windows and he smiled, grabbing the bottle he'd been feeding to the girl. It was his turn to drown himself in alcohol. Not that he had any particular sorrows. He carried it to his room, and flopped onto his bed. What would he do after that night, he wondered. It had been a long while since he had not had to worry about anything. Well, he did have to worry about taking care of Roxas.

He supposed the doctor hadn't been lying when he said Roxas was in pain. The kid had been screaming so loud moments before. Dead tired. Completely infected, had to change those bandages often, make sure he used the salve. His wound was so bad, could kill him. It would be all his fault for taking the boy out of the hospital. Axel had heard the full spiel. Wads of cash shut doctors up almost as fast as they did cops, he mused.

He chugged the bottle, warmth spreading up his spine and into his head. Well, at least he had moonshine.


	8. Second Inning

Chapter Title: Second Inning 

**A/N: Gotta congratulate Cirque du Macabre. Ya got the 50th review! So, some chapter in the future will be dedicated to you. Still would appreciate reviews. :3 But anyway, this chapter does move the plot forward, although it mostly involves character development. So, if that's your cup of tea, have at it!**

**On the Rainbo: According to Wiki, the Rainbo was a restaurant/vaudeville/Moulin Rouge/casino building that was actually in Chicago during the 1920's. Figured that it would be the perfect place to attract Axel for lunch. :3 In other news, had troubles with this chapter because it seemed to me that Roxas was entirely too weak. I was afraid of uke-ifying him. So, if you see any of that, let me know. D:**

When Roxas next woke up, he was blinded by the sun and pained by the ache in his stomach. He curled up into a little ball, his fragile senses not able to think of much else to do. He moaned. He was hungry, and someone was messing with that prick in his arm. He reached out to push the offender away. Or to grab them and make them feed him.

The world tilted slightly with the effort the motion caused, and he felt warmth spreading over his body from that one spot in his arm. He turned to look at the flurry of red hair, his hand feebly clutching that person's sleeve. He tugged on it, and the person leaned closer, smelled of alcohol. Roxas smiled, even as the pain of hunger vanished to complete warmth. The feeling was nice. Roxas couldn't speak, wanting to revel in the complete lack of feeling.

His eyes looked upon green ones, and he smiled sweetly and laughed.

"Feed me, damnit."

Axel laughed with him and he tried to sit up, but his strength failed him. He watched Axel vanish through the doorway and lightly traced the pattern on his covers. The past few days had been a blur. He'd been too tired, too exhausted to think of anything, to stay awake. He heaved a sigh. He had almost fallen asleep by the time Axel returned with some toast.

He took the food gratefully and quickly, practically snatching it away from the man. Axel rolled his eyes. It was as if he hadn't wasted enough time feeding the youngster. He expected Roxas to fall asleep as if he'd never woken up, like all the times before. But once finished, Roxas stared at him.

"How long have I been asleep?" he asked, and then sat up, pushing the covers off. Roxas looked down at himself, noticing that he was clean for what felt like the first time in his life. Clean pajamas, clean sheets, though his upper body was stiff. Upon closer inspection, he realized that he had bandages all over, on his legs, and feet, but they were mostly on his arms, chest, and back.

"On and off for five days," Axel replied with a shrug, plopping down on the cushy chair with a wide, lazy smirk. Enjoying all the comfort, the decent air conditioning, and the cleanliness, that was all Axel had been doing for three days. Halfway tied to the apartment by his younger charge, half because he didn't want to lose the money he'd gained on such a small chance in one game of poker.

"You haven't fed me for five days?" Roxas demanded with a scowl, though it was hard to look angry when he felt as though he didn't have a care in the world. He actually felt more like he should be laughing, and the brightness of the room intensified the feeling.

"Of course I have," Axel quipped and raised an eyebrow. "Just because you were too conked out to notice doesn't mean I didn't do it." Roxas shrugged dumbly, not knowing what else he should say. Thank you, perhaps? He pushed up from the bed and stumbled forward before regaining his balance. His legs felt like rubber, and he didn't really have feeling in his feet beyond that he knew they were on thick, carpeted floor. For someone who had never known any better, no better than the too hot concrete and grime, he didn't know what to do.

Axel watched him walk in circles for a few moments, stopped by the needle in his arm, which he ripped out almost as soon as he noticed, before Axel could jump up and stop him. And oh how he had jumped. "Idiot!" he shouted. "What'd you do that for?" Roxas stared at him, dumb and mute. The clock on the wall ticked lightly and Axel wanted to knock the kid a good one for such a dumb mood.

"What was it?" Roxas asked as Axel seethed. He felt blood trickle down his arm and wiped it off with his hand quickly.

"It was how I was giving you morphine to shut you up every time the poison started bugging you." Axel frowned unhappily and the needle rested against the floor, something dripping onto the carpet steadily. Roxas watched him ponder over forcefully putting him back in bed and looked away. Poison?

"Poison?" he echoed his thoughts with a quirked eyebrow and his legs finally felt as though they would give way any second. The covers had been warm, and the pillow comfy.

"The poison from the heartless. Everyone and their mother knows about the poison, it's how the heartless kill and feed," Axel explained and suddenly walked towards him. His firm hand on Roxas's upper arm steadily, roughly, angrily dragged him back to the bed. Roxas thought it was a wonder he didn't kick the man, knock him down a few feet. He was too tired, the clock ticked and he yawned.

Around the room, the overstuffed loveseats, the fine wallpaper, the cream colored carpet, the curtains, the light, Axel's annoyingly red hair. They all started to blur together and he rubbed his eyes. "I don't remember any poison."

"Their claws, Roxas, their claws." Axel sounded almost pitying. "Where have you been for the past hundred years or so?" Roxas shrugged.

"I don't remember." The silence settled between the two of them, both awkward in the same way, neither knowing what to say next. Axel for being beyond caring, and Roxas for lack of experience with talking to others. They stared at each other, each waiting for the other to say something else.

"Yeah, well, when you decide to get your ass out of bed--"

"You put me here," Roxas pointed out with an annoyed snarl. Axel rolled his eyes, outside a horn beeped loudly and shrilly.

"You know, forget it. I'm trying to be nice to you, kid…" He trailed off at Roxas's laugh.

"You have no clue what nice is, I bet."

Axel bristled and stormed out. Some thanks for all the things he'd done for him. Fed him, bathed him, kept him doped up to where he didn't scream too loud at night. After all, he had to sleep too. That kid had no clue what nice was. Where did he hide that damned moonshine? It was the only thing keeping him from going stir crazy.

He could hear shouts in the hallway, another angry fight going on with his neighbors. Something heavy was thrown, must have landed in a loud clap from the wall into the floor. At this rate, they were going to be kicked out, he mused with a smile. Too bad, wasting all that energy.

He found the last dredges of his alcohol, for he'd had his binges over the past three days, and frowned. He'd need to get some more from Demyx, who was probably too busy playing his trumpet for the masses to notice. That or perhaps too busy acting busy.

Axel settled down on the couch, bottle in hand, tipped up to his face. He didn't much care for being drunk for the hell of it. He liked the warmth that came with drinking. Drunkenness hardly had any effect on him. He couldn't walk straight, and definitely didn't have good reaction time. But the hangovers always came, and he always wondered why he bothered until he had that next drink.

He could hear Roxas exit his room, every unsure step. He could picture him looking around with curiosity as he approached the kitchen and the living room. He looked over the fine paneled wood on the floors and the shine of all the metal within eyesight, a view of Chicago through the windows. Windows that actually shined and furniture that looked new. How much money had he won, he wondered.

Axel placed the bottle on the carved coffee table with a small click and a heavy sigh. Roxas frowned. "What's that?"

"Alcohol. But there's none left," Axel lamented and turned to look at him. Roxas was still entirely too thin. He surmised he could break him in half with one smooth move at this rate. "Are you still hungry?" Being too thin wouldn't help him in later heartless fights, Axel mused. Roxas blinked in surprise.

"Yeah," he paused and looked again at the bottle with a small frown. "Isn't alcohol illegal?"

"In name only." Axel stood up and motioned back towards Roxas's room. "There's some clothes you can wear in there." He could have laughed at the kid's startled look. New clothes, of course he would get new clothes with his half of the money. He couldn't walk around in filthy, bloodstained clothes forever. A door slammed and they stared at each other, again neither with no clue what to do next. Roxas pushed his hair back and broke the staring contest to creep back towards his room.

"Thanks," he murmured, not sure if Axel heard and not particularly caring. Axel ran a hand over his face. There was something wrong with that kid. The flower prints on the couch glowed eerily in the sunlight and Axel watched his reflection in the window. Birds flew by and he stood up. The coat rack hung neatly on the wall next to the door, a small table underneath it, his shoes tossed carelessly to the side.

It took a long while for Roxas to show up, the shirt had proved difficult with all the bandages and he was sure it would have hurt to put it on if he had really been able to feel anything. In fact, dressing himself had been difficult anyway, sometimes with annoying muscle spasms. The room was darker than he remembered, the curtains having come closed over the window while he was gone. Or maybe a cloud had passed over the sun.

The clothes were stiff, and clean, a sensation Roxas couldn't completely comprehend. They were a bit loose, especially around the waist, but Axel had been nice enough to provide him a belt. When he finally managed to dress, he wandered out of the room, mumbling something about too many bandages.

They left the apartment in high spirits. The muggy stench of the city couldn't even be bothered to bring them down, though Roxas tired far too quickly for Axel's tastes. People pushed past them, and pick pockets eyes them greedily and Axel felt reassured of his place in the world. They halted a cab and Axel quickly gave him an address while Roxas slumped against the door.

The cab driver spoke with a thick Italian accent, sometimes attempting to strike a conversation with the odd pair, and each of his attempts ended in his own insane muttering in his native language. Sometimes about home, sometimes about the assholes who rode the taxis. He was confident in knowing that neither the man with the shocking red hair nor his sleeping companion understood him.

Though the ride itself was short, often with loud honks from other cars for no apparent reason, and the idiotic stop-and-go roughness of their own ride, Axel had to wake Roxas up once they arrived at their destination. The curb was crowded with finely dressed people and flappers. Though it was only the afternoon, the sound of lively music could be heard from inside the building.

To the side of it was an expansive garden, with flowers and trees of all types and colors, and the tinkling laugh of women. Chimes waved in the wind and waiters rushed across the pavement to the various tables of patrons with their every command in mind. The smells of food wafted to Roxas, who found himself very hungry and almost eager enough to steal one of the plates from the tray.

Axel smiled to himself, quite pleased. He had always enjoyed the Rainbo. He pulled Roxas towards the entrance, where they were soon whisked away to some table inside the building. There were hundreds of tables, and an empty stage. Later that evening, there would be a huge poker game and some slot machines could be seen against the walls of the room. Axel had to resist counting the change in his pocket as Roxas merely stared around the expansive room at all the people and their strange clothes and hats.

Axel watched their waiter approach them with an amused smirk. Oh, of all the people! "Zexy! I didn't realize you'd gotten a job here!"

Zexion frowned sourly, his pad of paper in hand. "I told you not to call me that, Axel," he seethed, all the while maintaining control of his voice. He looked at the clueless boy beside Axel, studying his dazed expression. Axel noticed and waved a hand in front of his face.

"I'd like you to not stare at my friend," he said smoothly with a dark smile. Roxas watched the tension between them, the question of who that person was again wandering across the edges of his mind, far overwhelmed by hunger. "And we'll have two Cokes."

Zexion smiled, as if nothing had really happened and Axel was just another customer. Because all things considered, nothing had happened. Larxene would be frustrated at missing him again, but Zexion figured that she'd get over it. After all, how long until he finally went to visit Demyx, the person closest to being his friend? "Right away, sir."

He walked away, feeling Axel's frown against his shoulder blades and his smile grew just a shade darker at nothing in particular. Gouging from the kid's response, Axel had told him next to nothing. And if what Luxord and Marluxia said was true. He almost laughed.

"Who was that?" Roxas demanded, a hand resting lightly over his stomach, the menu very quickly catching his attention. He couldn't see Axel's contemplative stare. Axel shook his head and picked up his menu as well.

"His name is Zexion. You would do best to stay away from him."

"Why?"

"Because he's a tricky bastard. Very good with words, which you're not."

Roxas frown at him. "Oh, gee, thanks. I really, really appreciate the advice, Axel."

Axel started to say something, but was interrupted by a rather cheery, "Here you go gentlemen." The cokes were set down on the table and Zexion was staring at Roxas again. "So, what's your name, kid? Didn't think Axel took to strangers too well."

"Roxas," he said simply, feeling a little queasy from the lack of food in his stomach. That toast had been so good. He looked at the menu eagerly again, and Zexion felt like he had one more piece of information.

"You got a last name, too, kid?"

"No," Roxas answered quickly. Axel stared at Zexion in annoyance. Of course, he was up to something. Luxord and Marluxia wouldn't have been able to keep their mouths shut. He smoothed his hair and coughed, drawing Zexion's attention to him.

"We're ready to order, waiter," he said with another dark smile. Back off before this gets ugly, pretty boy.

Zexion straightened up and they were able to get their orders to him. Any time he came near the table, Axel was always ready to scare him off again, the shorter man being afraid of getting knocked around by a bigger and stronger Axel. After all, they weren't on Organization territory right then. Who knows what Axel would do once his temper went off the wire? And Roxas was terribly oblivious, blinded by the hunger in his stomach.

The meal was finished quickly, at Axel's insistence and they left, Axel dragging a sedated Roxas behind him. Once free of that place, Axel whirled around and told Roxas in no uncertain terms, "Stay away from him." They got into the cab and went home.


	9. Night Owls

**Chapter Title: Night Owls**

**A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long! I didn't mean to have ya'll wait forever and ever just for this measly update (even though it is longer than previous chapters). But I got really discouraged when I'd thought I'd lost the chapter thanks to computer issues.**

**Anyway, I did have specific songs in mind when I mentioned the music this chapter. The lyrics are from _'Deed I do_ by Al Lentz's Dance Orchestra. Anyway, enjoy, and as always, I appreciate feedback. :3**

Roxas laid his head against the door of the cab, oblivious of the redhead beside him. Had been almost instantaneously upon entering the car, all his energy being spent on eating. He couldn't even find enough energy to be disgusted with his lack of energy.

"What's wrong with him?" the cab driver with a curly mustache asked. Or Axel assumed he asked. His accent was so thick, the only hint Axel had to go on with his motion towards Roxas.

"He just got out of the hospital," Axel said dismissively. Clearly, cab drivers should learn to mind their own business, and to keep their eyes focused on the road. Axel and Roxas were slammed forward into the front seats, the driver cursing and shaking his fist, car horn blaring, and Roxas staring around, blue eyes clearly not focused on the cab.

Somehow in their scrambling back to their seats, Axel having no end of curses for their imbecilic driver, Roxas ended up leaning against his shoulder. Axel moved to push him back against the door, but the driver's sharp stare stopped him, challenged him, and he found Roxas less of an annoyance than the idiot in front of them.

"Drive, already, damnit!"

The cab driver scowled at him and the car lurched forward, Axel never taking his eyes from him. He had a feeling they were going to be overcharged, and that was exactly what the cab driver was planning to himself as he called them a few choice words in his mother language. Axel's mouth twitched and he looked out the window.

People whirled around them, like out of focus figures on a picture show. Bright posters hung outside a vaudeville, and next to it were advertised nickel silver pictures.

It was dark and the alleyway was long. He was bleeding, he knew that. Couldn't help but feel that searing pain in his back. His screams had long stopped, because he could no longer find the strength in him to scream. Fine shoes stood next to his face, where he lay on the graveled pavement.

_His hand clutched uselessly at a bit of grass poking through, as more tears emerged from the corners of his eye. He hurt so much, the pain was all he could focus on, not the damp pictures on the ground, not the fine suit._

He wasn't paying attention anymore, his mouth was completely dry. He wasn't sure if it was raining or if he was just sweating, he just knew he wanted it to stop. The world tilted and he clutched to that strand of grass with all his being.

Axel looked down at Roxas. The boy had showed some life and buried his face into his shirt, clutching at the sleeves as strong as his feeble hands could manage. He was sweating, badly. Axel's shirt had started to become damp where his face and hands were pressed and his own shirt was clinging to his body, with tell-tale wet marks on the fabric.

He looked at the street signs and heaved a sigh. They were still minutes from their destination. It was going to be embarrassing if Roxas started screaming. He always woke up screaming lately, and that was how Axel knew when to give him his next morphine shot.

He muttered something. Kept muttering, and Axel wasn't entirely sure he was speaking English.

"Confusing. But at least they'll know you for what you really are now."

The rain and the moon and so many mixed images that Roxas couldn't keep track of what was reality and what wasn't. He thought for a moment that maybe all of the sensations were reality, even as feeling numbed in his fingertips and lips. He couldn't hear beyond the roar in his ears.

"Stop here," Axel said quickly, and the man slammed on his breaks. Behind them, another car horn went off and several people gasped, a paperboy stopped to stare. Roxas seemed impossibly small next to him, and he probably needed to be in bed. Or in a hospital, but hospitals cost money.

And his head hadn't necessarily needed to be slammed into the seat in front of him, but he couldn't really be picky when it came to cab drivers. He held out a crumpled dollar bill. "Keep the change," he explained quickly. The door opened, and Roxas was easier to carry than he thought.

"_Why…?" He felt the words come to his mouth, finally able to speak coherently. "Why did you…"_

_Feet shifting, whoever he was, he was walking away and Roxas couldn't find the strength to lift his head. Voices swarmed around him, and he was numbed. Was it raining or was it not? Gravel scratching against him, vague sensations that he couldn't even begin to place. _

_Red hair, dark face, holding out a hand to him. Behind him, he could see the word "sinister" as if it were playing on the silver screen. He didn't care because he was pinned by covers that felt as though they were made of lead. The color was still there, the sensation that came from seeing something so shocking against a gray backdrop._

Finally, the kid was in bed. Axel stared at him intently, relieved when he finally seemed to calm down. He heaved a sigh, turning away. Behind him, Roxas groaned.

_The sensation was leaving, and he clutched at it desperately. He didn't want to be alone again, because being alone was a cold feeling, a ruthless feeling. Being alone meant he only could survive, and surviving was hard, like stealing from others who were only trying to survive as well. It was a viscous circle._

The boy began to toss and turn again. Just when he thought he was free to go about his own business, as well. Axel blew a stray strand of hair out of his face, trying to think of anything that could calm the boy down. He looked at the phonograph, just barely visible from his spot in the door way.

Perhaps music would calm him down, Axel mused, walking towards it, intent on picking out a decent record. He placed it on the phonograph and cranked it up, the wild sounds of Louis Armstrong answering his turns. Well, he could stay around awhile to listen to the music, he mused. What could it hurt?

_The music, he'd heard it lots of times on the street, heard people talk about it like there was nothing else in the world worth talking about. He lifted his head. Music, where? Where in this place was there music? He felt the sensation that he wasn't alone, and the music chirped brightly, trumpets blazing loud._

_Underneath, he could hear the brassy sound of something… he wasn't sure that they were called. In fact, he could hear all the instruments, but he was utterly incapable of naming them. Except for the trumpets, and the drums, both within his limited amount of knowledge._

Roxas opened an eye, looking at the darkened room. What time was it? Whatever time it was, it was painfully silent. His shirt was damp against his back. He sat up quickly, looking around. Suddenly, he heard music start from the living room, and he sighed in relief. He moved to get up, but was stopped by the tug of the IV. So, Axel had managed to put it back in somehow.

Annoying idiot. He yanked it out again, standing on wobbly legs as he made his way to the door. There was light, he realized, just not in his room. He looked out of the doorway, watching Axel nod his head in time with the music. There was an easy smile on the man's face. He tapped the beat on the arm of the couch he was resting on.

Roxas stumbled out of his room, his stomach gnawing in hunger. On the counter separating the living room from the kitchen, there was a sack of bread, and his stomach grumbled in protest as he passed it. A sandwich would have been delicious.

Axel looked up at him, frowning. His nose still looked awfully bad, the bruise around it black and ugly. "What happened to your nose?" Roxas asked, tilting his head to the side before he sat down on the couch next to Axel.

"I had a bad night the day before I found you," he responded with a simple shrug. "Are you sure you're feeling well enough to be wandering around, kid?"

"I'm hungry."

Axel looked at him, his head resting against the back of the couch, entire body facing him. "When are you not?" He stood up and headed towards the kitchen where the bread lay in wait. "A sandwich will have to do. I'm not answering questions if you decide to wig out again."

Roxas wrinkled his nose and the lights in the window behind him twinkled. The city itself was like a sea of stars at night. Stars and neon, every apartment window seemingly lit up and all the clubs in the downtown area flashing their wares. The city really never slept.

"I didn't wig out." His eyes trailed to one of the finer paintings, furnished by the people who owned the apartment complex. The room was nicer than he remembered. Like a daydream about things he'd never had. He looked back at Axel as the man shut the cupboards.

"You were asleep, so you wouldn't remember," he commented with a shrug, finishing the sandwich and tossing it onto a plate. "Hopefully you get over this sickness thing soon, because I'm tired of catering to you."

"Then why do you do it?" Roxas asked lamely, not bothering to lift his head up as Axel brought the sandwich towards him.

"Oh, I suppose as thanks," Axel responded with a small smile. Thanks and as bribery, of course. There was still more money to be had thanks to his keyblade. The boy was still too thin. How long would it take until he was healthy enough to fight again?

Too long.

Roxas took the sandwich in his hand, and they relaxed.

"You may wonder if I want you… 'Deed I do," hummed the phonograph, trumpets pelting the high notes with their bright timbre. Underneath, the brassy trombones and French horns provided the colorful backdrop for the clarinets and the drums kept them all together, all dancing.

The floor shook, and the music swished, couples laughing gaily. Demyx nodded his head in time with the beat. For once, he wasn't behind the counter, but at one of the many abandoned tables. He watched the short skirts of flappers wave with the motion, never stopping. Up on the stage, the musicians glistened with sweat, faces red except for the one black clarinet.

He rapped his hand against the table, and then was stopped by Larxene's firm hand stopping him. He looked at her, and she looked thoroughly bored and agitated. Jazz held no special place in her heart. It was an unfortunate annoyance that she had to deal with on a constant basis.

Vexen wasn't by her side tonight, and she had taken a break from her typical slacks and shirt to dress like the other women at the club. Her silver dress flashed in the light, hanging about her frame in a way to emphasize her curves. Just short enough to attract appreciative stares.

They had been called there by Zexion, who promised that he'd make it worth their while. He encouraged them to dress for the occasion. Demyx had ignored him, much to Larxene's annoyance. She had been lured there by promises of news on Axel. Her nails raked against the wood of the table, and her foot twitched.

"Where the hell is he?" she demanded to no one in particular, wincing at the sudden crescendo. "If he's not here in five minutes, I'm leaving. I don't have time for this."

Demyx rolled his eyes at her, glancing around the room. The cracks in the floor and walls were all too familiar, as well as the festive atmosphere. The heat swarmed around them and he unbuttoned the top button on his shirt. "Sure is hot."

Larxene growled in annoyance, a dim shine beginning to appear on her skin, and the room shook again. Thunderous applause rippled through the crowd, gaining momentum and power, taking over all the room until Larxene felt like she was going to have to throw her chair to shut everyone up.

Before she could push herself to that drastic final measure, a hand came to rest on her shoulder and Zexion sat down beside her. "Truthfully, I didn't think it would be so crowded tonight."

They looked at each other and then finally at their new companion, eyebrows drawing together.

"What's the big deal?" Larxene demanded quickly, slamming her fist on the table. "We've been waiting for thirty damned minutes, Zexion. I'm really starting to lose my cool."

"It's hot," Demyx explained with a shrug.

"That's not what I meant, you idiot."

"Oh. Sorry." He grinned and looked towards Zexion, who stared at them in mild annoyance before discarding his fine gloves on the table.

"Well, Larxene, if you really want to leave, do so. I was going to help you with Superior's assignment. I thought you were rather struggling with it." He took his time to look at each of them, riveted in their spots for different reasons. Larxene with anticipation, and Demyx with his awkward sense of loyalty towards Axel.

They sat in silence, practically counting each others' breaths. Finally, Larxene leaned back in her seat, shouting over the chorus of the next song. "Well?"

Zexion smiled, folding his hands neatly in front of him. "I saw Axel today." They had to lean in close to be able to hear him. He didn't bother shouting over the noise. "Him and his friend from the fights, Roxas."

"That's his name?" Larxene demanded with a frown, looking around at the crowd uneasily. Had the music gotten softer, and the rush gotten slower? Where was the deafening sound of the dancing?

"Yes. He's got bandages all over his arms, and I bet they're everywhere else. He seemed out of it, and it wouldn't surprise me if that's because Axel's too cheap to pay for the hospital bill."

"But how is this supposed to help her?" Demyx asked with a jerk of his thumb towards Larxene. "He didn't tell you where he lived did he?"

"Of course not. But coupled with what Marluxia knows about where the kid was taken after the fights, we could figure out where Axel lives."

"What's his last name then, Zexion? I'm just dying to meet the little brat."

"That's the odd thing," Zexion mused, leaning closer towards the table. "He claimed he didn't have one."

"Well, that would make sense if Axel found him on the street. Probably doesn't have a family," Demyx interjected with a nervous laugh.

There was silence. The musicians were covered by the dramatic closing of the curtain, their final bows lost beneath the sound of the applause and the dismayed night owls. People made their ways towards the doors, determined to find the next club that was still open.

Those that weren't quite drunk yet rushed towards the bar, one final drink for the night please.

"We've got a lead now," Larxene concluded. "That's all that matters."


	10. Sound of Music

**Title: Sound of Music**

**A/N: I slaved over this one. Seriously. I'm going through writer's block of epic proportions for me. D: So, this whole chapter? Each word written was dragged out of my head kicking and screaming. Hopefully this will be it with writer's block. But at the same time, my schedule is going to become busier, so… Yeah. We'll see how that goes! Ya'll enjoy! The song lyrics are from "Lena, Queen of Palasteena."**

Kairi tapped her hand against the table, the sound muted by the fine table cloth. Her sequined dress flashed brightly, and the feathered show cape she wore did little to detract from the brilliance of the gold dress. Her headdress lay in the center of the table, too heavy to wear at any time.

Her feet ached from dancing, and her mood was as dark and pensive as the look on her face. In one corner of the room, Donald and Goofy lay asleep on their makeshift beds. But for a girl from a city that never rested, it was far too early to turn in.

Next to her was Riku, his hand gently wrapped around her own. His pinstripe suit made him look so handsome, she mused with a smile. She leaned close to his passed out figure and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He was the reason she kept dancing, even when the heels were making her feel as if she'd never walk normally again.

Donald twitched in his sleep, letting out a loud screech of rage as he flailed, fists hitting an imaginary target. Goofy compensated for the additional noise by snoring louder. How Riku managed to sleep through that, she'd never really understand.

Silk draped across her bed, folded onto the floor in an overly elegant manner, and she realized that she was too spoiled for her own good. The pillows called to her, fresh, fluffed, and all too comfortable. She sighed and looked away, the clock ticking away, like the tsking sound of a metronome.

Her eyes drooped closed and she sighed heavily, squeezing Riku's hand just a bit. And then there was knocking on the door, which opened after a soft "Come in." Riku jerked awake and looked around, eyebrows drawn together, cursing himself for falling asleep while Kairi had been talking.

The chandelier lighting the room shook, and the door opened and a small mouse walked inside, a wide smile on his face.

"Mickey!" Kairi breathed, jumping up and almost dragging Riku with her. She ran towards the center of the room, scooping the mouse into a hug. "When did you arrive?"

"Just a minute or two ago. I came as soon as you sent your letter about Roxas." The mouse glanced at Donald and Goofy, hands tugging on his red slacks. "Where is he, now?"

"I… Well, I didn't want to create a big fuss, so I," she trailed off, looking down at the ground.

Behind her, Riku stood up and placed a protective hand on her shoulder. She smiled at him, silence falling over all of them like a warm blanket. Perhaps they were more tired than she realized.

"He's with a man named Axel, as far as we know," Riku answered for her.

She leaned against him, watching the light and shadows play over her clothing, Mickey, and Riku's hand. "I hope he's alright. Axel was kind of shady," she admitted. Something in his voice, a sort of desperation rang true in his words even while she could tell he was lying through his teeth.

He needed Roxas. He needed Roxas and the money, and that could lead to any one of the scenarios popping into her head. "Do you think he'll come back?" She asked.

Riku reached to stroke her hair and she sighed. No one answered her question. Mickey's tail drooped and the silence settled in with a sort of finality. No one said anything. Mickey's half heard goodbye floated to the awake inhabitants of the room.

Riku picked her up, just enough to give himself some leeway to sit on the chair. She adjusted herself to sit in his lap. "Do you think I made a mistake?"

He shook his head, and she laid her head against his chest. There they sat in silence, his hand absently stroking her hair. The curtains shifted in an imaginary breeze, and Donald rolled over. Goofy snorted in his sleep, and they giggled. She looked up to Riku and smiled, his lips grazing hers.

"We'll just have to keep playing the waiting game, sugar," he whispered.

She nodded and clutched his shirt, her eyes falling shut. He smiled down at her, the muscles in her face slowly relaxing. Her breaths came in slow, even beats, and he knew she was asleep.

"_What happened here?" she screamed, eyes searching the alleyway. "What's going on?" She could only hear the steps retreating._

He lifted her up and carried her to the bed, setting her down gently. She rolled onto her side and smiled.

_There were two of them at opposite ends of the alleyway. The gravel and bits of paper, mixed with the glass of broken bottles from ages ago, scratched beneath her feet. Heartless had been swarming there only a second ago, and then they vanished._

_Roxas lifted his head._

The lights turned off.

_The alleyway was empty, though it seemed to stretch on forever. The moon shone down and he stood up, felt as if his head had hit the moon._

_It felt like something fell down. One instant, he was naked, and the next he was clothed. The dark hallway twisted, ornamental candlestick holders grew out of the mildewed brick. _

_The mice kept saying, "God save the queen!" He found it really distracting._

"_How many round epithets do you think were made Monday?" a short brown rat asked, standing on its hind legs and folding its hands. Its beady black eyes turned to look at him, as the mice chattered, unseen._

_It was talking to him. "A hundred and twenty three," he answered without skipping a beat._

_The mouse nodded and a woman tapped his shoulder. He assumed it was a woman, anyway, though there was no clear face, or even any distinctive figures to her shape. Though, if he thought about it, there really was nothing that said he was himself._

"_Run!" she said simply and he ran, because she must have been right._

_But so help him, he felt as if he were moving slower as he ran than if he had been walking. His feet would not move, and a sense of frustration overcame him. He had to run, but he couldn't and impending doom was at his heels._

_Ahead of him was the color red, and he ran towards it, a voice hounding on his heels. He felt like he was running forever, like he had been running forever. A rat hovered in front of him. "And you think you're getting somewhere?" it demanded before it leapt at him._

Roxas sat up, arms flailing about him before clenching the covers. He stared at the patterns on the wallpaper, his breath slowing down. A shaky hand ran over his face and he groaned. When had he fallen asleep? And how long had he been there? Outside, a persistent cab driver honked his horn.

He did nothing for he didn't know how long. His head jerked up, reverie broken, when he heard the soft scratch of a record. The trumpets and clarinets belted notes out, and the tubas hummed softly under them. Roxas stared at his door and climbed out of his bed. He hurt.

"Lena is the queen of Palesteena," a voice sang.

Roxas walked towards the phonogram. Axel sat on the couch, legs folded Indian-style, head nodding in time to the beat, and lips moving along with the words. He looked like he was under some sort of spell, and Roxas didn't care because he was hurting too much. Axel liked the music because it blocked out Roxas's moans of pain when the boy was asleep.

He liked music for more than that, but that was just its latest use.

Roxas tripped over one of the tables, not paying attention. He yelled, hopping awkwardly on one foot and generally hating everything. Axel looked up and laughed at him, his sneer not very friendly at all as he stood up and helped the boy to the couch.

"There's a table there, by the way."

Roxas cursed. "It's not funny," he complained, hands gripping the folds of the couch. "It hurts," he mumbled, shaking.

"It's withdrawal," Axel commented and the music tapered off. He approached the phonograph and opened the cabinet underneath it where all the records were stored. He flipped through them, ignoring Roxas's growing frustration.

"Withdrawal?" Roxas demanded with a pained moan. "What are you talking about?"

Axel didn't respond to him, instead searching through the records before finding one that he was satisfied with. Roxas looked away from him, pissed that his pain was being shoved off in favor of music. He wanted to throw the record against the wall, with its pianos and clarinets and tunes that he could nod his head to.

Axel sat next to him and reclined. "Just listen to the music. It helps."

"How do you know it's withdrawal? Withdrawal from what?" Roxas demanded, the shakiness from his hands spreading up into his arms and shoulders. He gritted his teeth, as the pain rolled over him like a wave.

"Morphine does that," Axel replied, waving his hand to the tune, eyes closed and apathetic.

"Then fix it!" Roxas shouted suddenly, whirling on the redhead angrily. He couldn't forget all those days without the constant pain. He liked the numb feeling. "Give me more!"

He clenched his fist and Axel stared, eyes wide with shock, and then the shock was gone. He raised an eyebrow, face calm, and he couldn't force himself to care much about the boy's predicament beyond wanting to shut him up and somehow manage to keep him in tip-top shape. "I can't," he replied smoothly. "All out."

"What?" Roxas seethed. "What do you mean 'all out?' Go buy some more!"

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a prescription for morphine?" Axel asked and stood up, walking away from the couch. "I'll give you a hint; it's easier to get a bottle of alcohol."

Roxas glared at him. Axel knew that the boy was wishing his eyes were daggers, and he had to laugh. By the look Roxas was giving him, if his eyes were daggers, the boy was a sadist like no other. He could never beat Larxene, but he could try with his angry stares.

"You won't get it now, Roxas," Axel said with a note of finality and Roxas snarled before curling into a little ball on the couch. "Just tell yourself it's withdrawal and it'll be easier," Axel said with confidence, even though he didn't know if the advice would actually work or not.

He didn't care. Roxas looked up at him, their eyes meeting. Roxas knew he didn't care, and the boy slumped forward. "You…" he mumbled.

Axel sat next to him again, reclining easily as the music played. Roxas shook, and he hummed louder, overpowering the sound of the boys whimpers. A door slammed somewhere in the outside hall.

"Just listen to the music," Axel said calmly. "It helps."

"No, it won't," Roxas shot back bitterly. Light prickles trailed down his back. His palms were damp. "You're a liar."

"What have I lied about yet?"

They were silent, Roxas racked his brain for something, anything, that he could say Axel had lied about. Axel relaxed with the smug knowledge that the boy would come up with nothing.

"Have you paid those people back? The ones th-that lent us the money?" Roxas asked, softly.

Axel glanced down at the boy where he rested on the couch, his face starting to glisten. Poor kid. "When you feel better, I'll let you take them the money."

Roxas nodded and went quiet again. The music continued playing in the background, clarinets backed by trombones, and a tuba playing somewhere underneath both of them. Jazz brought back good memories.

"What are the instruments playing?" Roxas asked, inhaling sharply for pain.

Axel smirked. "Well…"


	11. And All That Jazz

**Chapter Title: And All That Jazz**

**A/N: Well, this one took a hot second to get out too. Sorry, guys! I just got a new job. (If you'll notice, my profile has changed from saying "Perkins wench" to "Chili's wench.") And it's midterms. What's a girl to do? However, we are starting to kick things off (how many times am I going to say that until it's true? XD) and I'm positively giddy with how much I want to show what I have planned.**

**This chapter, also, is dedicated to Cirque Du Macabre! Thanks for being my 50th reviewer!**

**I'd love to dedicate another chapter to someone. Perhaps the lucky 100th reviewer?**

**Anyway, please, please, please review with your thoughts. I love to hear them, even if they aren't all glowing praise. (If you see something wrong, tell me!)**

The lights faded in and out, dancing along the edges of his consciousness. They were welcoming in a world surrounded by darkness. Those lights were a break from the ever-present voices that taunted him. Rats scurried by, but there was always a persistent one at his side.

"You don't think you're free, do you?"

He didn't. Flames sometimes scoured the limits of the darkness. They shed some light on the barren ground, of the faceless people there. Sometimes he would see brick walls with messages written on them. There was no color, except for the flames. The messages were illegible.

He was stuck. His back felt held together. And then he woke up.

The room was dark, extraordinarily dark. He couldn't even see the lights from the windows. When he glanced that way, he saw the curtains shift in the light air-conditioned wind. He groaned, and let go of the sheets he hadn't realized he'd been clutching.

He struggled to sit up, and pain splintered through him at random points. The poison, Axel had told him, was strong. He was lucky he wasn't a heartless by then.

"_It's how they kill. They scratch the hell out of their victim, anything to get one drop of their poison in. Some people call it darkness, but poison sounds better to me."_

"_Is that how all the heartless are created?"_

He could barely remember asking the question. His head was foggy, even then. His hands twitched and shook. His knuckles ached from having held on to the sheets for so long. He was a wreck, he knew. His stomach felt sick, and he could feel prickles of sweat dripping down his back.

"_No. That's just the painful way."_

"_How many ways can they be made?"_

"_Two."_

He pushed the covers off and climbed out of the bed. He felt as though he were a hundred years old. Everything ached and screamed for him to go back to sleep. But he couldn't sleep because of the pain running through his limbs. He took a shaky step forward, away from the bed, and felt like sobbing.

How could Axel be such an asshole? He wanted to bash the redhead's skull in with the keyblade he prized so much. Who would be laughing then?

Another step forward. He wanted the morphine that had kept this feeling sedated. He didn't mind sleeping until the whole spell blew over. He was at the door then, staring down the hallway.

It was too dark to see anything, and he realized he really couldn't hear anything outside. He wouldn't have been surprised if the summery days had already turned into winter, though he didn't remember what winter was like. His stomach rumbled, and he crouched down, unable to move anymore.

Where was that damned redhead anyway? Probably asleep. Or not even there. Roxas wasn't sure. He forced himself to stand up and walk out the doorway, into the hallway and down the hallway as far as he could.

Somewhere between his door and that point, his toes collided with the solid frame of a table-stand and he cried out.

"God damn it!" He yelled as he hunched over, elbows resting on the table, lest he fall over. His foot felt numb and warm. He knew that he'd hurt himself, yet again, and he growled.

Roxas was frustrated. He hated pain, and the God he heard about on Sundays was a cruel bastard for inventing it. "God damn it…" He grabbed the table and flung it against the wall. Something crashed and broke and a light switched on.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" Axel grabbed the boy and pulled him away, shook him for good measure, and decided that youngsters were idiots all in one fell swoop. He hadn't imagined that the kid would do something like that, and there was going to be someone banging on the door in a minute.

"Don't you realize this is an apartment?" Axel demanded, eyes flickering towards the broken vase and table. Someone, anyone, maybe even the landlord would be banging on the door any minute.

"Shut up!" Roxas shouted, his glare settling on the redhead. "This is all your damned fault!" His voice was rising with his anger. He pushed Axel away.

Axel stared at the kid, not saying anything else because that just seemed to make Roxas shout louder. Speak in a whisper, and get a scream back. He watched the boy stumble towards the living room, or maybe the kitchen. Where was he going, anyway?

Outside, he could hear the shrill whine of a car horn, and Axel finally stepped forward and decided to help the kid who was stumbling around, not unlike a drunkard.

"Here." A grab of the arm and a steady walk to the couch and he threw the boy on it. Roxas looked at him, and Axel had a sneaking suspicion that the boy was only capable of throwing his steely glare around. Forget the keyblade.

"_What's the other way?"_

"_To lose your heart to darkness all on your own merit. Of the two, I would rather some heartless to rip my heart out than to lose it all on my own. Everyone who's ever lost their heart that way agrees."_

They stared at each other. It was a matter of importance that Roxas make Axel look away, because that bastard could still wear that smug expression on his face. He shouldn't look so pleased, not when Roxas couldn't sleep without nightmares. Like lightning, pain raced up his spine.

And he looked away.

"I'm hungry," Roxas said, pride tingeing his words. He didn't want Axel's help, and Axel really didn't want to offer it.

But need made him do strange things, and he needed this kid with his strange key, sword, whatever the hell it was. Because God's good grace just wasn't spreading over the generosity in the area, and beggars still held tin cans while little girls ran about, buying enough candy for a week with thirty cents.

Roxas could hear Axel's steps and looked up. He watched him pace around the kitchen, making something. No, more like slapping something together. He lifted his head and Axel came back, some sort of sandwich in hand. The pieces of bread that everything was shoved between were unevenly cut. But it looked delicious.

Axel held the sandwich out. Roxas snatched it immediately and began chomping down, ravenous. He had never been taught any sort of table manners, Axel noted disdainfully.

He walked away from the boy to the phonograph, leafing through the huge records and settling on the Memphis Five. Record in place, phonograph cranked up, and the bright notes of Phil Napoleon and his trumpet. God, Axel loved this music, and Roxas felt like he might start to like it too.

They sat in silence, the sandwich gone almost without chewing. What time was it? It was late, they both looked tired.

"_Are most of the people on the streets nobodies?"_

"_No. They're all whole. Nobodies, kid, don't last very long. Without a heart, it takes a strong personality to find a reason to keep on living."_

"_And if they don't?"_

Roxas's hands were shaking, pain racing up and down his spine. His head felt as if it were about to explode, and his palms were damp, light prickles of sweat were forming on his back. He was shaking all over, and Axel was decidedly ignoring him. Roxas reached out. To what, he wasn't sure. He just reached out.

His hand caught on Axel's sleeve. The music started to skip. Axel cursed and pulled away from him, choosing the music over Roxas.

"Please," Roxas begged. "Please, morphine."

He was begging, and he couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand how Axel was looking down on him, and he wanted to scream at the redhead for getting him in this situation in the first place.

He couldn't catch a break.

Axel pulled away from his grip and Roxas curled up into a ball on the sofa. They sat in silence as the record repeated over and over. Neither moved, until Axel finally said something.

"You're desperate, kid. I'm not giving you any more morphine." The record screeched and then resumed playing, no more skipping. "You'll thank me later."

Roxas could hear Axel sit down again, and Axel could hear his muffled, rushed breaths. The music overtook Roxas, flooding his senses. Or rather, he grabbed the music and clutched to it, wishing he could be rid of his senses. Axel watched, silently, until the boy's even breaths replaced those rushed and ragged ones.

Axel exhaled slowly, though he hadn't really been holding his breath anyway. He rested his head against his palm, thinking in between not-so-bitter curses over his lost sleep. Thinking about what would happen if Roxas found the remaining morphine, found out that he'd been cut off.

Well, Axel mused to himself, he'd have to raise a toast to the boy for doing more than just whine, wouldn't he? But, still, restless and angry youngsters were such pains to deal with.

He glanced down at Roxas's sleeping form and stood up. He'd have a crick in his neck if he slept like that, all curled up, and he'd wake up sore besides. And Roxas would wake up and whine, or maybe curse, or even maybe pretend to sleep some more. Who knew?

Axel didn't. Didn't quite care, either. He reached down and lifted Roxas's sleeping form, knowing the boy was still far too light. It was all too easy to carry him to his bed and place him under the covers. Roxas was just tired enough to stay asleep throughout all of the movements

"_Gawrsh, Sora. Why would ya want to go to Chicago? It's purdy out here," said Goofy._

_The boy, Sora, lifted his head and made a grand bow, before pulling out three balls. He juggled them, in an exaggerated motion. The light wind ruffled his hair, and the trees around him whistled and clapped their branches together with its help. Flowers grew in odd patches on the ground._

_Bees ran around from flower to flower, desperate to meet the fall quota._

"_Because I want to be a part of the Vaudeville. Not the small time stuff, I want to be a part of the big ones, to be part of the acting and the playing," he trailed off with a grin, the balls falling into a pile on the ground._

"_Are you sure you wouldn't be better suited for the circus?" Donald asked._

_He laughed. "I think Kairi would like it. She's been so sick lately, I thought I'd give it a shot. For her."_

"Kairi…"

Axel looked down at the boy, looked down and frowned.

"Axel… let's go see Kairi tomorrow," he continued and rolled over. Within another minute, light snores could be heard every few seconds or so. The curtains flapped against the windows as the air conditioning clicked on noisily.

"Hey, if it shuts you up for a few days," Axel said slowly, shutting the door behind him.

Roxas shifted under the covers, and had a dream where he managed to flush a cocky rat down the toilet.

"_But I'm not gone yet!"_

"_Who cares? You're all washed up." Roxas turned away from the sopping wet rat, who danced a jig as he shook toilet paper off his feet._

"_Washed up, but not dead, my idiotic little friend!"_

"What do you mean, Mickey?" Kairi demanded, hands clamped around her cotton skirt. Blue, the room looked blue, but maybe it was because of her skirt.

Riku stood behind her, aquamarine eyes focused on something else, a stain on the wall. Kairi was the one who looked worried, and more than just a bit guilty. Their mouse companion sat across the tiny table, its surface cleared of books just this once.

"Leon's with him, but he sent the telegram two days ago," Mickey said, thoughtful frown on his face.

They were all silent, Kairi playing with the collar of her shirt. Riku's hands rested in the pockets of his jacket. A tommy gun was propped against the wall, reflecting in the dim light onto his pinstriped pants. None of them had any clue of what they should exactly say to the news that Mickey had given them.

"I should go see him," Kairi said, each word sounding as if she had forced it out. She opened her mouth to continue, but there was a knock on the door, and the mood was changed.

"Riku," a cheery voice called through the door. "We need you out here, so don't make me come in there and drag you out."

The three looked at each other, saying nothing for a moment before Riku moved, room bluer than ever. He picked the gun up from the floor as he made his way towards the door. Behind him, Kairi sighed and laid her head on the table.

Feet shuffled outside the door, and conversation hummed on. It didn't sound like he was needed out there, and he really wasn't.

The girl, Yuffie, just wanted to make sure the group looked a little bit intimidating, especially to the new comers. Riku emerged from the secluded room, and she waved, grinning wide enough to split her face. She didn't trust the new guy, and DiZ seemed to be utterly oblivious to the fact.

Riku stared at the room, or rather the small gathering. Yuffie, DiZ, and a strange man in an expensive trench coat.

DiZ raised a gloved hand, motioning him towards them, a smile playing on his lips. "Riku, we have this man requesting membership into our… club."

Riku remained silent, an eyebrow raised. He and Yuffie were thinking the same question: so what?

"I just wanted him to see the face of the man he'd be answering to. Now, sir, please introduce yourself to us," DiZ continued genially.

The man made an elegant bow, old fashioned and dated. "My name, good sirs and madame, is Vexen. I hope to be of some service to you."


	12. Little Birdie

**Chapter Title: Little Birdie**

**A/N: Well, after much huffing and puffing and waiting on everyone's part, the next chapter is finally here. I'm sorry it took so long, and I'm sorry for the disjointedness of the writing, but there is a reason. Just ask the narrator.**

"In recent news, the campaign for state senate has taken off. Senator Xaldin, our favorite candidate, has hit the ground running again. His speeches-"

The radio shut off with a click. Axel tossed the newspaper aside. Roxas was still asleep. He glanced at the couch where the boy had moved himself sometime in the night. Shivers racked his body, and Axel looked away, the smallest tinges of guilt and doubt. What if the poison hadn't run its course?

He had expected the pain to be gone by now, he didn't want Roxas to become addicted. Morphine clouded the senses and just didn't make one a good fighter. Roxas didn't care, he wanted the pain to stop. But that pain had been there for awhile, hadn't it? So why stop it now? Because he knew what it was like to be pain free, all of the sudden?

The infection on his back had been bad, he was lucky he hadn't caught meningitis or some other disease. The etched 'NOBODY' was begging for it. Axel shrugged and took a sip of his coffee before standing up and going to the stove.

There were still remnants of the breakfast he'd made this morning. They were a little cold now, but Roxas needed to eat. The boy was slowly gaining some girth, but he was still little more than a skeleton. He piled them onto a plate, grabbed a fork, and made his way towards Roxas.

"Eat," Axel said, monotonous, and Roxas equally as unfeeling, curled into a tight ball. He only moved with some prodding from Axel. Hands wrapped around the bacon, his face was flushed. Even though his stomach was tossing and turning like a restless sea, Roxas shoved the meat into his mouth.

Axel looked away from the boy, unable to watch him inhale his food yet again, and then wait for the inevitable moan that always followed eating. Something always managed to hurt, and it was vexing. Stop hurting, Axel wanted to scream, with feeling. Roxas didn't care, and ignored the burden.

Pain took away his capability to focus, because pain was greedy and spread up and down his body and demanded that he pay attention and give in to it.

He moaned as his stomach turned upside down, food an unwelcome necessity. He curled against the couch, and waited for Axel to inevitably turn on the radio or the phonograph. Welcome soothing assaults, and sometimes they put Roxas to sleep and they always put Axel into a friendlier mood, or he was more talkative.

The music sounded, neither Roxas or Axel paying much attention. Axel started, not even remembering getting up to start the damned thing, and he reclined. Roxas's jaw unclenched, and his knuckles started to turn red, no longer so tense and white. Axel next to him, and it was a familiar condition to the air.

They liked it. The city was silent from the window, as if taking a break from being a cesspit for five minutes, like it was the countryside. The first angry shout broke, and the muted silence continued awkwardly. Like a heartbeat, car horns and people could be heard.

Roxas reached, his arm reaching for something that didn't exist, or he was reaching just to prove he could. Eyelids blinked heavily beneath bangs, and his lips moved, working up the will to talk.

"I want to go see… that girl, what's her name… by myself."

It wasn't a request, neither Axel nor Roxas bothered to pay much attention to it. Accepted it with a shrug, and Axel hummed with the music. If there had been a clock, it would have ticked, like something right out of a radio drama, and then there would be a dramatic scream, and maybe a joke or two.

"Do you know how to get there?" Axel asked idly, much to Roxas's annoyance. Conversation between the two was like shouting into a wire and hoping the message came through eventually.

However, processing the question, and thinking up an answer was like poker. Depending on how lucky either one happened to be, conversation wouldn't be labored and sickly, like Roxas, or like Axel in the morning after his high (or was it a low?). They looked at each other, or Axel looked at Roxas, and Roxas looked at whatever was easiest.

"Tell me where," Roxas began and the world tilted, just a bit, and as he started to slide off the couch, it righted itself. "So I can find it."

Axel looked down at the boy, who was barely able to walk, and he knew that he was going to be writing the address on any slip of paper he could find soon enough, because five minutes later, Roxas was standing up and looking for his shoes. It took another fifteen minutes for it to sink in for Roxas that the loafers that had been untouched were his.

And then Roxas was out the door. Axel shut it behind him, good riddance, just be back before he had to rouse himself to look. Looking took effort, and he couldn't have a glass of brandy, or moonshine, while looking for something. Besides, everything was always better at finding him. He ran a hand through his hair.

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea sending a kid out there.

But it was better than dealing with his whining. Axel had shown a lot of patience lately, though Roxas wouldn't admit it. He should celebrate, though there had been a lot of celebrating. He was rich, for then, back from the center of poverty and starvation. Free from debts. And sneak attacks.

He moved to lock the door, but stopped. Step, step, shift, knock, from the other side of the door. A dainty touch, and he could almost hear this girl smile. Hello, who could that be? Roxas was only just left, or maybe he left an hour ago. When did he leave? Axel shrugged, and on the other side of the door, dressed to kill, she was starting to grow just a little impatient out of habit.

Axel opened the door, and they looked each other in the eye. For the first time since parting ways so many years ago, neither was out to kill the other. How pleasant. Axel glanced up and down her figure, and she was dressed to kill. She knew he liked the short skirts, with the frills all attached, and she pushed her way in.

"The music?" She asked, an eyebrow raising as she glanced around the room.

She glanced back at him. None of her former love of jazz remaining, Axel felt a little bit of what was left of himself die inside. Not that Axel wanted her back anyway. "So, what are you here for?"

She pressed her hands together, and the beads around her neck clicked together. Curling her hair, it had never suited her. But only to those who knew her. "Straight to the point, Axel?" she pulled the pin off the phonograph.

With a screech, his sanctuary was gone. "You'd almost think we're playing a game of 'whose got more moxy.'" She had just made up the game. But making up games was what she did, and the rules were never very simple. Her rules always ended bad for someone, but Axel and Larxene both understood that that someone was not there.

He shut the door behind him with a click, just as Roxas slumped against a building, away from the crowds that he'd completely forgotten about, and away from the shadows. He couldn't take anymore heartless. His hands shook and his legs wobbled.

He felt better to be out in the sun. He wanted to kill something and maybe in the streets he could find something to kill that wasn't a heartless. He closed his eyes, taking in the loud noises of people living and breathing and walking on the streets. He could smell trash and cheap perfume and some pretty expensive cologne. The people stared at him, and didn't stop.

People didn't stop unless there was something offending to the senses, or if a sense of impending doom was present. Roxas didn't quite seem doomed. He was an annoyance, and he held his hand over his eyes. Maybe the sun was too bright for him, the girl observed and she tugged on her dress.

She stepped closer, and Roxas eventually closed his eyes. They were next to each other, while people were still pressing by angrily, _get out of the way_, and she was very intent on watching him—and holding onto her cards. Roxas lifted his hand and turned to look at the not-so-subtle girl.

"What?"

She stared at him, and she looked as bad as he felt, with blonde hair caked with dirt. She wasn't caked with it, there was just a layer, a very obvious layer, and she was more worried about the boy who looked ready to faint. He wasn't ready to faint. Sweet, sweet medicine, he wanted it.

She smiled, timid hands holding out pristine cards. "Would you like your fortune read?"

He looked at her eyes, and then at her hands. She looked dead. He looked dead. But he looked like he might have a nickel, at least. She could buy some candy. But he didn't have money, not there. It was in a bank somewhere, tucked away safely from him, or so Axel said. Money, money, money. Car horn.

"Uh, no thanks." He pulled away from the wall. "Who are you?"

There were so many people there, and she looked like she would be swallowed up into the crowd, and the crowd did want to swallow her up and never give her back. She was a whisper of a person, and he forgot he had a headache for a moment.

"Naminé."

And the moment was broken, because he looked sick, and she had to catch him from falling. Her cards went everywhere, and she sighed. He sighed too. And then groaned. He had places to be, and she had no where to go, but his places to be were calling him. He needed to go.

She had offered her help without a word. Roxas didn't know it was given, was in denial to some point, but he was leaning heavily on the shorter, tinier, wispier Naminé.

"I've got to go to fifth."

The time was a blur, he wasn't sure if he was walking half the time, though Naminé would assure him from time to time that, yes, they were going towards fifth street, and that she wasn't mad about the cards. He wasn't thinking of the cards, and he could barely hear her voice. She talked slow. Axel talked slow, and he hated Axel.

People were whispering, but no one offered to help. Too much involvement. She lifted her head, face flushed with sunburn and grease stains and dirt.

"Turn here," Roxas said quickly, a groan escaping his lips almost immediately after.

The alleyway, through the haze, was almost the same, there was more broken glasses and trash, and a few downtrodden fliers. She wrinkled her nose, but she didn't know why. Then Roxas pulled away, his head still feeling amiss, but he couldn't let her go in there. They didn't know her. That was bad, wasn't it?

He didn't know. Knock, kick shuffle, someone was opening the door, and he fell forward.

Naminé wondered idly why he had his cheek pressed against the door so hard, did it hurt that much? He just barely missed landing on the ground. And he looked desperate, gazing up at the man before him.

A raised eyebrow, and long, long blond hair. Blue eyes. Roxas grimaced.

"Kairi, I need to see Kairi…" He trailed off, and the man folded his arms behind his back.

"And just who are you?"

"Roxas, tell her Roxas is here to pay her back… I promised," he breathed.

Vexen smiled down at the boy. So, this weakling was the one that they were chasing. He pressed a hand to his chin. It would take no strength at all to just snatch the boy up, not even for him. He could be gone within minutes, and no one would be the wiser.

Roxas groaned under the pain. "M-morphine…"

He was so cold.


	13. Playtime

**Chapter Title: Playtime**

**A/N: Wow. SO. This took, what, four months to get typed out? I think various delays can be attributed to: college, muses dying, muses going on strike, and my indecisiveness on how this chapter should end. However, today, it came to me. And I set myself to completing this chapter. So, Gogo, I hope you're happy. And now Roxas **_**has**_** to be Dr. Cid's friend. Or else. /lame rp joke**

"What are you doing?" Axel asked, his eyes glossing over, feet resting on the short coffee table in front of the loveseat.

From the light, she looked like an angel, her imaginary halo glistening around red flashes of jewelry and dress, red enough like the walls, and Axel's hair. Her shoes were a white speck on the floor, with his black slacks and accentuating white pin-stripes.

She smiled, air around her and Axel charged, and she kicked the coffee table out of the way, into the wall. Larxene had never believed in barriers, and she was uncompromisingly physical. Axel's mind reacted faster than his body, and she was pressed against him.

Knees against knees, and legs spread almost uncomfortably apart, and Larxene's nails digging into the couch and into his shirt. She looked elated, and he couldn't force himself to react beyond the typical knee-jerk reaction. And when Larxene kissed, she loved to leave lips bloody and bruised. Just so she could play nurse and lick away the wounds.

There was no feeling in the action. This was something that she'd learned behind his back, and maybe she'd been wanting to try it out for ages. Behind every little blush, this was the woman that had hid. She blushed then, or maybe it was the rush, because there was no way she could feel embarrassed. Her garters were pressing into his pants leg.

She never wore underwear by a rule, and she never had. He smirked, and with no remorse pressed back. A fluid, strong movement, and she was stumbling back and onto the floor, his foot in her face, and where the hell had he pulled that gun from? They both laughed.

Behind every blushing couple, there was a monster waiting to be released.

"So, Larxene, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" A click, the safety. Axel tilted his head back, pressed his shoe against her face, like he was trying to squash a cockroach that just wouldn't die.

She gasped, and she could swear she was enjoying this. Like old times. "I had a message to deliver," she cooed as best as she could. "A favor for an old friend, you see." She glanced around, waiting for him to ease up.

Axel crouched down, his gun now pressed to her forehead, and she glanced up. A new game, to see how far he could go, before she panicked and called the cops? He chuckled. Another time, another time. "Then get on with it, I don't have time for your games, Larxene."

Larxene smiled and his foot against her cheek was starting to hurt. She didn't mind being under him, as long as he could push her down on his own. This was a type of strength she'd figured Axel had long since lost (wealth breeds laziness, or so she thought). "I can't deliver a message with your foot in my face, Axel," she said slyly.

Axel's mouth curled into a grin, and he could have laughed in contempt. But, really, there would be no feeling behind it, so what would be the point in it? "You can talk, can't you? So, speak up, hmm?"

The trysts and turns, and his hand visibly tightening over the trigger. Larxene knew, he knew, he had no conscience left to stop him from pulling that trigger. He'd lost it long before he'd became a Nobody, long before Larxene herself had lost her own conscience.

It was an act of slow, painful murder that started from birth. Larxene wriggling under his torture (a mediocre form thereof) only made this fact more painfully obvious. Time stood still, tense moments passed.

And then Larxene decided that she wanted to live. "Xemnas wishes to… meet with you. And Roxas," she bit, giving an agonized cry at the added pressure. "He wants an answer! Damnit Axel, lay off!"

His foot lifted from her face, but his gun was still painfully cold against her skin. "Tell Xemnas… I meet on my own terms, and it's high time I stop playing puppet to him." A rough hand, grabbing her arm, and before she could blink, she was pressed against a wall.

A twinge of fear ran down her spine, and she almost gasped at the feeling. But like that, it was gone, and Axel couldn't have cared less. "Tell him I'll see him in Hell."

Larxene stared at Axel, her face neutral, eyes still wide from that twinge of _something_, and then she smiled, a nasty, sour thing, an imitation, but better, of Axel's own face. The ideas that crissed and crossed her mind, that reflected in Axel's eyes, and everything that was painfully obvious from the past, she couldn't help the giggle that escaped her lips. "Is this revenge, then, sugar?"

She could see how she had been attracted to this man once, when they were both decent people, unblemished in someone's sight out there. Axel's mind had fully wrapped around the idea (he'd embraced it, really) as soon as he'd found Roxas. It had been a mistaken Godsend, or it was yet to be his undoing. He figured there were only two options. "What else could it be, darling?"

She smiled and pushed him away, roughly, and her hair was a wreck and her makeup smudged. She walked out the door, calling behind her in a sing-song voice, "It's one versus ten, Axel. And Demyx is a fair-weather friend, wouldn't you say?"

Axel shut the door behind her, slammed it was more like. He had to bite back a curse with her smug threat. Larxene just smiled, and skipped down the stairs in high heels and a skimpy dress. Where could she go in the afternoon, all dolled up? Was there another toy that she could find anywhere near there? She hoped that the scientist was enjoying himself. Axel had to have been thinking in circles.

Like Roxas, who was ready to collapse. Vexen's eyes pierced his weakened body like ice to nerves, and he bit back a snarl. Say something, do something! Give him morphine, god, make the pain stop and let him get on with his life. Living for brief moments without it, it made his awareness of pain, his back and body, all that more obvious.

Naminé slipped underneath his arm, and she took a timid step towards the door. Vexen's hand, however, prevented her from entering any more than the tiny, timid step she'd taken.

"That's enough, child," Vexen interrupted cruelly, much to Naminé's dismay. She looked up to him, fear clouding her eyes, and he smirked at how apparent it was. Where had Roxas found this ragamuffin?

Roxas hardly noticed, and he felt a hand gripping his shoulder far too tightly, as Naminé stood, afraid and unable to move. His mind could only process so much, and Vexen could process so much more than the both of them. He could see that Roxas, as he was then, looked so unimpressive than the impression Marluxia and Luxord had given.

Was the experiment worth continuing? With a compromised subject, suffering from what appeared to be mild delirium and half starved besides, there was relatively little that Vexen could safely perform, could safely extract. The girl beside the subject shifted, blue eyes glancing upwards, and another shifting as someone came from behind.

Thought processes stalled and were interrupted, as the stranger looked at the rag-tags by the door, and the new member with the shifty disposition. Silence was exchanged with ease between them all, and then Roxas ruined the trade with a moan of pain before he slipped from the girl's grasp and onto his knees.

There was still much to be thought over, and considered. Roxas had to see Kairi. Vexen had to remain uncompromised. Another day, another street. Vexen stepped aside easily, and he couldn't help but look like a weasel. His eyes always seemed to be squinting at some stain that wasn't there. Roxas was close to crawling into the door.

"He says that he needs to see Kairi," Vexen admitted with no emotional attachment. Had he failed to stand aside, it could have been over before any of them knew the wiser. But it wasn't worth it and he vanished back into the darkness of the room. For all their claims of justice and being reasonable men, their darkness looked no different from any other gathering he'd ever seen.

It was a way to make them feel better, as if they weren't slowly falling from grace. She'd sing for them, she'd even walk into a room, and light seemed to gather around her. The man lifted Roxas, and he noticed a similar trait about the scared, fragile girl next to an equally fragile-seeming boy. Except she seemed to draw white to her, not light.

"Wait here. This's no place for a woman," and Naminé couldn't think of arguing. She'd wait, and make sure that no more ill omens went inside after Roxas. And she'd be waiting so that no more followed out after him.

Roxas's head hung, the strength draining from his body and into the grip his knuckles had on his fingers, and he grit his teeth. Breathing was almost hard to do, and he felt damp, damp and cold. With a force of will—everyone was _laughing_ at him, and he couldn't even hear it- he managed to lift his head enough, and walk on his own two feet, with only a little bit of help from the stranger at his side.

Somewhere, someone was plotting against him. Roxas was too simple to know the difference, and too wrapped up in his own wants, needs, pains, and joys to care. The joys seemed to be lacking, but it didn't matter. They still existed – _morphine_.

Kairi and Riku were only mildly entertained, while DiZ played parent, guest, and all around nuisance in the same room. Many times Kairi had whispered for Riku to call it a night. Her giggles and tender touches as she did this were more than enough to make Riku pay attention, tommy gun forgotten on the floor.

"C'mon, honey," she whispered, lips pressed light against his ear, breath ghosting to his brain carrying the sweet smell of her and the promise of her words. And he was listening. "Let's have a little fun tonight, it's so dreary in here…"

Another giggle, and teasing kiss, and his fate was sealed. Kairi knew this all too well. Riku worked to hard, he had the ideas of someone used to work to scrape by, someone who was used to working because no one else _could_ work. But everyone could work now, and Kairi wanted him to have a little playtime. He wanted her to stop being so damned irresistible. She smiled, and he blew his bangs out of his eyes.

"Please?"

DiZ watched them leave, her skirt waving about her and her hat wished to fly off her head. Arms clung to his and he placed his own hat on, pinstripes, suspenders, white shirts. His words were swallowed with a kiss as they took the back exit, back alleys, and into the bright streets.

Surrounded by people, but only really aware of each other's laughter. Another door opened, and a familiar face stumbled inside, his spirits no where near as good as that of the two that had just left.

"_It's just a crush. I think she needs him more than she needs me. And maybe… Maybe he needs her too."_

"_Do you think they both don't need you?"_

"_Nah. They just need me in a different way, Mickey." A grin, he always seemed to be wearing one, and the mouse couldn't help but admire his disposition in a world that seemed to be lost in corruption. Corruption, wealth, and a lot of lust. Mickey almost wondered if Sora would lose himself in that, too._

Roxas shook his head, pulled himself up from his knees, and DiZ raised an eyebrow. But it wasn't like Roxas or anyone else could see. Roxas's hands were shaking, pale and clammy. He reached into his pocket, cash, cash, enough to pay Kairi back for her kindness, for helping him.

Because as pathetic as he was then, he knew he'd seen worse. _The pain!_ He coughed, and the effort felt like knives to his lungs. "For Kairi," he labored. His eyes looked up at DiZ, and DiZ seemed to be two people, molding into each other continuously. A light, and a dark.

DiZ stooped, grabbed the money, and straightened before Roxas was even aware that any of them had happened. His hand moved to close over money that was no longer there. DiZ chuckled at the belated reaction, a small bit of pity over the poor boy for what he seemingly had been enduring for who knows how long.

"I will tell Kairi." DiZ motioned for the man who had lead Roxas in to help him up and lead him back out.

Roxas smiled. "Thank you." He went away, and he could feel something lift off of him—and then he was tossed outside, for the surprised Naminé to stand over. She looked at him as he lay on his back, her face confused, hand outstretched.

"A-are you alright?"

"Yes… Can you help me home?"

Things were changing.

Vexen smiled as well. Yes, the Superior would _love_ to hear this news.


End file.
